Dream Weaver (2 page)

He tried to act nonchalant, as if there was nothing unusual about her visit. Why, yes, strange ladies like this one appeared at his doorstep every day.

"Won't you sit down, madam," he said, holding a chair for her. Her scent, sweet as the forest flowers with a hint of spice, drifted his way and aroused his senses, emotions he'd stifled far too long.

"Now, pray explain how you came to be lost." He folded his arms across his chest. "And I don't believe you spoke your name."

She cleared her throat, an uneasy look in her eyes. "Gwendolyn Emrys," she said in a voice slightly above a whisper. "My friends call me Gwen."

He made a slight bow. "Christian Norgard, at your service."

Though she spoke with an unusual accent, he found her voice pleasing, low and soft with a trace of huskiness. His glance ran over her, from the crown of her lustrous hair, to a well-rounded bosom that thrust against her silky bodice.

Her gaze covered the room. "I've never seen a house like this before...at least, not while I was awake," she said under her breath.

"What?" Christian drew up a chair across from her and sat down, leaning forward on the table. "Are you from
Philadelphia
, madam? Frankly, I don't understand how you came to be lost. You're not from around these parts, that much I know."

"Not from
Philadelphia
...but I..." She opened her mouth, then shut it again, giving another perplexed glance around the cabin. "Your wife--"

"No wife. I live alone." Nor was he ready to marry. His profession gave him but little time for courting the ladies. Despite his shock, he remembered his manners. "May I offer you tea, Miss Emrys?" Where was this lady's family or husband? And when would she explain how she had gone astray? In his medical practice, Christian had learned patience long ago. He knew better than to rush her, assuming she'd explain her dilemma betimes.

She threw him a hopeful look. "How about a Coke?"

Christian blinked his eyes. "I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind, tea sounds good." She fidgeted in her chair, speaking in a strained voice. "Looks as if I've interrupted your meal."

He made a negligent gesture and rose to take two earthenware mugs from the mantel, then set them on the table. "I'm happy to share with you." He lifted an iron kettle from the fireplace and poured the steaming brew.

"Bohea tea." He eased the mug toward her. "'Twill help you feel better, I doubt not." He reclaimed his chair and gave her a thoughtful look, still wondering where she hailed from. After slicing the loaf of bread with his barlow knife, he placed a piece on the pewter plate.

"Injun bread, madam? 'Tis very good, made from rye and corn meal."

She reached for the tea. "No thanks, I'm not hungry." Her hand shook, the tea spilling down the side. She set the mug on the table with a soft thud. "You want to know where I'm from."

"An understatement, Miss Emrys." Aware of his tense muscles, he stretched his legs out under the table. He raised the mug to his mouth and took a cautious sip of the piping hot brew.

"I--I don't know how to explain. I don't even understand how I came to be here." She pressed her hand to her head, her face pinched with anguish. "I honestly don't know!"

Christian raised his eyebrows and sipped his tea, more confused than before. Memory loss. In the early days of his practice, he'd known a woman with this very problem. Might this young lady be suffering from such an affliction? Poor lady! If only he could help her.

"Madam, have you had a bad fall recently?"

"As a matter of fact, no." The lady twisted her fingers together. "You'll never believe me, but I want to tell you...” She paused, her glance shifting to the stone fireplace, then back to him. "I want to tell you..."

"And I'm eager to hear. Enlighten me, pray." He drummed his fingers on the table a few times, then stopped, reminding himself he must project a calm demeanor for the woman's sake, if not for his own. A dying ember in the fireplace hissed and sparked, sounding like thunder in the quiet of the room. He toyed with his earthenware mug and gave her a long, level look, determined not to let her seductive charms distract him. "You were saying, madam?"

"Well, I..." She ran a hand through her thick mass of hair. "It's no use. You'll never believe me."

"You already said that, Miss Emrys."

"Yes, well..." The young lady looked down at her hands, then raised troubled eyes to his. "I...I was visiting a restored village and--"

"Pardon me, madam, the nearest village is
Fort
Pitt
, miles to the west."

"Well, I was at a restored village, and somehow," she said in a shaky voice, "somehow I ended up here, in the middle of a forest." She leaned forward, her hands resting on the table. Such pretty, well-groomed hands she had, the fingers slender, her skin smooth. This lady was definitely not a servant.

 
"Just tell me one thing," she said. "What's today's date?"

"The date is the third of May, Miss Emrys."

"And the year?" she asked with a wary look.

"The year? Madam, this is 1762." Why didn't she know that?

"Seventeen sixty-two?" She jerked in her chair, a fearful look on her face. "Oh, no, it can't be," she whispered.

Christian strove for patience, increasingly convinced the lady had maggots in her head. "Nor am I jesting. I assure you it is 1762."

"Uh, uh. Don't expect me to believe that." She spoke with bravado, but her face held a look of doubt.

"'Tis true, madam." He looked into her eyes, unable to discern if they were blue or green in the shifting light, but clearly the prettiest he'd ever seen. Disregarding her charms, he persisted. "Pray tell me your purpose for being in these parts, since it's obvious you don't belong here." She must be a lunatic, Christian thought as he wondered how she'd escaped her keepers. More than anything, he wanted to help her, but oftimes this malady defied a cure.

"You've got that right! I don't belong here!" She took a deep breath. "And I don't know why I'm here, Mr. Norgard. Like I said, I was with a group of tourists, visiting a restored village, and--"

"Miss Emrys, you are speaking nonsense."

"I'm speaking the truth, damn it!"

"Madam, please!" Despite her unladylike language, Christian struggled against an attraction for this strange woman who'd appeared out of nowhere. 'Struth, she was lovely, but he needed all his faculties to deal with her. What an odd manner of speech she employed, like nothing he'd ever heard. No matter, he liked the fresh, clean look of her pretty face, with its dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks, her flashing her eyes, as if he should dare question her.

 
"Tell me something," he said. "How did you arrive at my doorstep?"

"I told you, I was at a restored village in the year two-thousand and three--"

"Two-thousand and three!"

"Right! The twenty-first century."

His eyes raked her with cool appraisal. "Don't play me for a fool. You appear at my house in strange circumstances, certainly. You give me some outlandish story about a restored village--whatever that means--in 2003. And you expect me to believe your tale?"

"I don't care what you believe. I'm telling the truth!" She reached into her pocket and drew out a handkerchief. A paper fell to the floor.

Christian bent to retrieve the paper, stunned to see it revealed a diagram of
Fort
Pitt
, every angle, every bastion of the six-sided fort. My God, now it all made sense! On his most recent trip to the fort, he'd heard talk of a spy, someone passing information to the French. Several important papers were missing from the commandant's desk.

He slapped the paper on the table. "How did you come by this diagram of
Fort
Pitt
?"

She fluttered her fingers. "Oh, that! I was reading about the fort, and I intended to visit the place, if I can ever find my way out of this forest."

"Madam, you are either a skilled liar or--"

"I'm not lying!"

"--or you have a fanciful imagination."

"Wrong on both counts." She blew out a long breath. "Listen--I was visiting a restored village, and since I had an interest in the fort, also, I wanted to go there and study it, too." She reached for the diagram and returned it to her pocket. "So you see--a perfectly innocent explanation. I don't know why you don't believe me."

"Because what you say defies logic." He sighed. "We shall dismiss the question for now."

"Good idea."

"For now," he repeated. "Those are the operative words." She must be the spy, he fretted, wanting to deny the truth that stared him in the face. Could a lovely lady such as she betray her country? he wondered, willing to give her the benefit of the doubt but finding scant reason to believe her. If found guilty of treason, she would suffer a horrible fate. A vision of her writhing at the stake sent chills over his body, and he shook inwardly, as if he could feel the flames.

The lady rose from her chair to pace the floor, arms folded across her chest as she threw puzzled looks about the room. With her gaze on him, she tapped her fingers on her arms, then stared at the fireplace, her eyes drifting upward to study the dried vegetables that hung from the ceiling. She glanced his way again, looking more bewildered than ever.

Christian observed her shapely figure, too well aware there were limits to how much self-imposed loneliness a man could bear.

Several silent moments passed, then she smiled, a slow, satisfied smile, like a fox who's just discovered the hen house. "Would you mind if I stay here?"

"What?"

"Just for tonight?" she asked, her gaze straying to the stairs that led to the loft.

"You can't be serious, madam. I am a bachelor. Surely you can see such an arrangement would be unacceptable." His mind raced; he must end this stalemate. He came to a decision, one he hoped would prove satisfactory for everyone. "I know a family you can stay with--the Chamberlains, a few miles from here."

She ran her hands down her hips, apprehension seeping into her voice. "No, I can't risk leaving this area. I need to stay here, Mr. Norgard," she said, rapping her knuckles on the table, "even if I sleep on the floor."

"Although the notion is not without its appeal, I cannot allow it." A lady wouldn't dream of such a thing. "Far better for you to stay with my friends. Best we start soon. 'Twill take a while to reach their house. And we can discuss your, uh, disorientation along the way. I'll do whatever I can to help you. As a doctor--"

Her jaw dropped. "You're a doctor?"

"Aye, and--"

"Look, Mr., uh, Dr. Norgard, I have to stay right here. Don't you see? That way, I'll be in the exact place I was before I...uh, ended up in your cabin."

"Your suggestion is scandalous, Miss Emrys. Only think of your reputation." Could she be one of the many doxies who plied their wares at
Fort
Pitt
? Might she, indeed, be the traitor? His stomach roiled with anxiety as he sought to deny his suspicions.

She placed her hands on her hips, a look of challenge in her eyes. "Like I said, just for this one night."

"Miss Emrys, no properly reared young lady would even suggest such a thing. Besides, people oftimes visit me unexpectedly. You must stay elsewhere."

"Uh, uh. I'm not moving from this area, I'll tell you that right now. If you want me out of your house, I'll stay outside."

Christian spoke with patience, more convinced with each minute that this lady was the world's most imaginative liar. Logic ruled his mind, always had. And now, she insisted she came from the future. Had her wits gone wanting? More likely, she had devised this weird tale to mask her real reason for her presence in this area--espionage.

"Miss Emrys, I do see you need assistance, and I want to help you. 'Tis why I suggested you stay with my friends, at least for this night. Certainly, 'twould be better than sleeping outside, which I wouldn't permit. You'd surely catch a chill." Besides, if anyone could handle this lady, it was Daniel Chamberlain, a most capable fellow. "The best answer, I believe, is for you to lodge with another family."

"You don't understand! I have to get back home. And I don't need your permission to sleep outside," she cried, turning and rushing for the door.

"Just you wait!" With quick strides, Christian blocked the doorway, speaking slowly and distinctly. "Miss Emrys, I already said I want to help you. Now, pray permit me to take you to my friends. I assure you, I won't be far away."

She glared at him. What was going through her mind? Mayhap devising some scheme to obstruct him? Madam, don't even try it. God, he prayed, please don't let this woman be a traitor to her country.

Excitement warred with Christian's sense of reason as he looked into her eyes, such vibrant eyes that now appeared blue by the light streaming through the open door. Up close, her scent tantalized him, and he had to control himself not to draw her even closer. How easy it would be to lose himself in those expressive eyes, to forget his responsibility in the alluring curves of her body, to let her soft voice and provocative smile sway him from his course. What kind of a doctor would he be, if he could not even remember his professional duty when confronted with the tempting charms of this lovely woman?