Divine (31 page)

Of course, it didn’t help that the events of the previous day kept replaying over and over in Sebastian’s mind. Nearly haunting in their obsessive hold.

He could still feel her body sobbing against his chest. Over what, he didn’t know.

Surely not
him
.

And then he had
kissed
her. The barest brush of lips to be sure. But a kiss nonetheless.

Had she kissed him back?

He relived the moment yet again. That exchange of breath, the softest of touches before he remembered himself and pulled back.

Not that it mattered, really, whether she had returned the kiss-that-was-barely-a-kiss.

Only the worst sort of cad kissed a woman after she cried her pain into his chest.

Particularly a woman who was supposedly involved with another man.

It was
not
his finest hour.

Furthermore, he most certainly did not want to
ask
her about it. Such a question would likely earn him some pretty speech about mistakes and things-that-must-never-happen-again. Making him feel obligated to apologize.

And he no intention of
apologizing
for kissing her.

After she had calmed down, they had spent the day talking about his life as Captain Sebastian Carew.

There were so many experiences as a soldier that he had buried away. Talking about them was
not
on his list of preferred activities.

But she had been persistent, insisting she wanted to know, to understand what he had been through. Asking gentle questions, delicately coaxing the memories from him.

And still reeling from that feather-soft kiss, he had allowed her through his defenses. Had opened up and discussed memories he had never told anyone else. Horror and terror and pain he preferred to forget.

She had listened intently, lacing her fingers through his, putting a hand on his arm. Touching him somehow throughout.

Afterward, he had felt cleansed. Unburdened. Just that much closer to Georgiana.

For herself, Georgiana had recounted more of her travels and experiences in 2013, including a crash course in what she called taekwondo. He had found the dancer-like fighting moves fascinating.

Tonight, they were curled up on the sofa. This time with takeaway pizza and ice cream.

Watching that ridiculous Sherlock Holmes. Again.

“You do realize no one is that intelligent, right?” he stated after an hour of rapt attention, watching
her
watch Sherlock.

The play of emotions over her face—a tiny smile, a widening of the eyes.

“Hush.” She swatted his arm without losing her focus on the television.

“Well, he is impossibly intelligent but also improbably dense, at the same time,” he had to add.

She held up a stalling finger, again not averting her eyes.

“No. Just no. You are not allowed to malign Sherlock.” She wagged her finger.

A pause.

She cast him a coy, sidelong look. “You’re just jealous because he is so very
dashing
. . .” She clicked her tongue.

The minx.

He chuckled. “If by
dashing
, you mean good at running away, then I will have to concur—”

“Stop!” She elbowed his ribs. “So help me, I will drive to London tomorrow and buy you one of those overcoats.
And
the hat. Just so you can practice your
dashingness
—”

“Please. I don’t need a
coat
to be considered all the crack. You wound me with your supercilious talk of—”

She let out an exasperated huff of laughter, breaking his thought.

“What is it?” he asked.

She turned to him, pressing a button which froze Sherlock mid-speech. Finally pulling her attention completely away from the television.

“How do you do it?” she asked, shaking her head in wonder.

He cocked a questioning eyebrow and rolled his hand.
Go on
.

“You can be so intense one moment and then all charm and ease the next. It’s fascinating.”

He paused.

Things had taken a decidedly unexpected turn.

“You find me
fascinating
. . . I am interested in the direction of this conversation . . .”

“Sebastian,” she said warningly.

“No, no, far be it from me to interrupt. Pray continue.”

She nudged his shoulder. “This is precisely my point. This is the Sebastian I knew. Endlessly charming, refusing to take himself or anyone else seriously. But there is now Intense Sebastian . . .”

They stared at each other for an instant.

“Intense Sebastian who looks at me just like
that
.” She pointed at him.

“Like what?”

Another pause.

“Like I am the beginning and end of the world. Like he would like to throttle me and keep me safe all at the same time.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help it.

“Yes, that does pretty much sum it up.”

She swatted his leg.

“And who do you like better. Charming Sebastian or his intense older brother?” He had to ask.

She stilled. Locked eyes.

And then leaned into him, curling up on his chest.

Again.

This time he wrapped his arm around her, and she tucked an arm around his back, resting the other on his stomach.

All feeling so much like home.

“Both,” she whispered after a moment. “It’s like I am suddenly seeing you complete. Whole. The person you were always meant to be.”

He absorbed her words. But he heard them differently.

Ironic. After all this time, she finally saw the person he had always been.

Duir Cottage

September 20, 2013

Birthday in minus 18 days plus two hundred years

On Friday, Georgiana woke to a
whip-woo.

Text from James.

Please tell me you have dumped Shatner.

Not yet.

Mmmmm, interesting not-so-subtle implication that you do intend to break up with him.

Yes. I need to talk with him.

I’m just avoiding the conversation. He’s always been so nice, and I feel like such a jerk. It will probably break his heart.

Eh. He’ll get over it.

So does Stratton figure into all of this?

Georgie?

Georgie?

Where did you go?

Still here.

With Seb, it’s complicated.

I mean, he’s wonderful and . . .

Yes? ;)

Stop it, James. You know how Emme feels about emoticons.

Sebastian is wonderful and . . .

Go on.

:})

I’ve dubbed that emoticon the Sir Henry, btw.

No, you’ve ruined the moment. I can practically hear you laughing.

Well, if you want my opinion,

(which I am quite sure you do not)

I think Stratton is a lovely human being.

You can’t say that about another man, James. It’s creepy.

But true.

Are you bromancing again?

Ignoring that. Emme and I are making our way back to you. We should be home on Sunday :}p

Shaking her head, she texted more and then showered, dressed and joined Sebastian in the kitchen.

And spent most of the day trying not to think about him and war and all the horrid things he had seen.

And that kiss. Well, the kiss-that-was-barely-a-kiss.

Was it enough of a kiss to warrant a place on her list? Because if so, that brought her kiss count up to seven.

Which was actually an important thing for a woman to know.

She wanted to ask him about it but doing so would also mean acknowledging that
it
had happened.

Besides, did she want
it
to have happened?

Well, yes, she did. She actually wanted to explore
it
a bit more, if she were being truly honest with herself.

The problem, of course, lay in their current situation. Sebastian was unmoored from everything familiar and decidedly vulnerable. Kissing him without being more sure of her exact affections for him, and his for her . . . knowing they most likely would not share a future in the same century . . .

Well, it just wouldn’t be kind. To either of them.

Like the rest of the week, Friday proved to be another day of fruitless searching. The person they needed to talk with at Stratton Hall was on holiday in Morocco until Wednesday. Records from the time period around Lord Blackwell’s life were inexplicably missing from the family archive.

They were no nearer to their goal. Nothing made sense. What were they supposed to find here in 2013? Why allow a trip through the portal if they would not be able to see anything?

Georgiana pondered this as they sat on the sofa again.

“I like your toes,” Sebastian said suddenly, staring at her feet.

Georgiana blinked. And then laughed.

“You do? Why?”

He shrugged. “They define you. Elegant and long. Expressive. I like this third one”—he touched it— “how it curls a little into its neighbor. Like it doesn’t want to miss any of the fun. It wants to be part of everything. I bet it finds mysteries
thrilling
.”

He was
right
, curse him.

It
did
.

How had he become such an expert on her toes?

As she had texted that morning to James, she had come to realize Shatner just wasn’t for her.

He didn’t
see
her. He liked the
idea
of her, just as she liked the idea of him. But that wasn’t knowing.

And after spending so much time with Sebastian, she really liked being
known
.

Liked that there was someone in the world, other than a blood relative, who saw her to her very core and accepted her just as she was.

Just as she did him.

Man Sebastian and Boy Sebastian. Charming Sebastian and Intense Sebastian. Somehow they had all merged into the same person—a sweet, considerate, fierce, wickedly charming man she was coming to passionately adore.

It was an unsettling realization.

No. It was
terrifying
.

Because caring deeply for Sebastian would force her hand. Leave her with terrible decisions that no one should have to make.

Too much. It was too much to contemplate.

So she pushed it to the back of her mind.

And still didn’t text Shatner.

Duir Cottage

September 21, 2013

Birthday in minus 17 days plus two hundred years

Saturday dawned bright and clear, an English autumn day at its finest.

After a week of chasing clues, they were no closer to discovering any answers about Lord Zeus and his nefarious nineteenth century activities. Instead of spending another day in futile research, Georgiana decided to focus on doing something to ease their minds.

So in that vein, she laundered and pressed the clothing they had worn through the portal. Meticulously dressed herself.

Perhaps a night spent in the nineteenth century would lift their spirits.

Chapter 19

The old guild hall

Herefordshire countryside

September 21, 2013