Divine (37 page)

To laugh with him, to revel in the incredible rightness of being in his arms, to wonder at the miraculous gift of his love.

He
loved
her! This magnificent, amazing man had chosen her.

Shaking his head at her, he stomped over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. Dressed in a dark forest green cashmere sweater and jeans that made her heart skip. Though, honestly, the man would look devastating in anything. He kicked off the slip-on leather shoes he wore and then stripped off his thick socks.

He patted his lap.

“Sit.” It was not a request.

Grinning, she walked over and sat primly on his knees.

“Foot.” He held out a hand.

Wryly, she curled her leg up, sighing as he wrapped his warm hand around her blue toes. Poor things. Clucking his tongue, he put his sock on her foot.

“Other foot,” he commanded, repeating the process. Georgiana wiggled her toes for him.

When he was satisfied, he tugged her to him for a lingering hug and kiss.

“Better?”

“Better,” she agreed. “Thank you.”

He rose, setting her on her newly-stockinged feet.

“Good.”

“Breakfast?”

“Please.”

He padded toward the fireplace, looking to put another log on the fire.

She pulled a frying pan out of the cupboard and grabbed eggs from the fridge.

She heard him move through the kitchen and down the hallway. Open the door to the cellar.

“Honestly, Seb,” she called. “You check that thing every day. What would you do if the portal did work?”

Silence.

“Sebastian?”

Nothing.

She ran across the kitchen—slid, actually, in his thick socks—and into the closet.

Paused on the stairs.

The portal hummed, pulsed with electricity.

“Sebastian?”

But he was gone.

Chapter 23

Duir Cottage

September 23-26, 2013

Birthday in minus 15 thru 11 days plus two hundred years

G
eorgiana spent the rest of Monday pacing in front of the closet door.

She didn’t dare go into the cellar. James wasn’t home, and if she went into the cellar and was sucked through the portal, she might never see her brother again.

But
Sebastian
!

To not see his smiling face, to not feel the slow thump of his heart under her cheek, to not relax into his strength and courage.

To not have
him
. . .

She was sobbing in the hallway when James and Emme returned. Through hiccups and long pauses, she managed to tell them what had happened. James held her, and Emme listened as she cried out her fears and worries and heartache. Apparently, Sebastian’s reason for coming through the portal had been fulfilled. He had discovered the origins of Lord Zeus, and Georgiana had learned the truth of her affections for him. And so the portal had taken him home.

But what about her? She and Sebastian were destined to be together, their circles completely linked. Of that, she was sure. The portal would most likely allow her to pass through. But knowing this, if she returned to 1813, the portal would probably be closed to her from that point on. There would be no coming back, no visiting James in the twenty-first century. She would be cut off from her brother forever.

What to do? She felt hopelessly trapped between the centuries, aching for both. James had been her past. But Sebastian was her future.

How could she live without
him
?

Tuesday dawned dismal and dreary. A description which encompassed more than just the gloomy, autumnal weather. It was if all the world felt her distress and decided to join in the melancholy.

He
loved
her.

He had
always
loved her.

She spent the entire day curled up on the couch, Staring at the fire and eating far too much chocolate ice cream. Digging up every memory she had of him. Sebastian defending her to the village boys, sitting by her bedside when she was ill. Waltzing with her at Stratton Hall. Begging her to marry him over and over. She had been such a blind fool.

James or Emme sat patiently next to her throughout, James rubbing her hand. Even Marc called from Bangkok in an attempt to cheer her up. They were so incredibly sweet and supportive.

Good, kind James. The person who, up until a month ago, had been the closest to her in the whole world. The man who was part brother, part father. The person who had taught her how to ride a horse, how to drive a gig, and how to shoot a rifle—much to Arthur’s dismay. The brother who searched tirelessly to find a cure for her consumption.

How could she live without
him
?

On Wednesday, Georgiana determined to at least take a shower and change into clean clothes. But she walked by
his
room. Which led to her walking
into
his room.

Four hours later, James found her curled on Sebastian’s bed, cuddled up with a pile of his clothing, his nineteenth century green coat wrapped around her. Breathing in the lingering remnants of wool and leather and Sebastian.

Her heart so heavy she could hardly speak, much less eat. Her toes were cold. She had forgotten to put on socks.

How was she to live without someone to keep track of her toes? She was completely toe-irresponsible.

Her future stretched before her, bleak and empty. Devoid of melting smiles, fierce protectiveness and toe-warming hands.

By late afternoon, Emme finally convinced her to take a much-needed bath. After which Georgiana huddled in one of the wingback chairs in front of the fire and cursed the fact she had nary a photo of Sebastian. Which lead to another violent bout of crying.

What kind of terrible person was she to not have a single real
thing
from him?

How could she live with
herself
?

On Thursday, James and Emme staged an intervention.

“Enough, Georgie,” James said as she lay on the couch, staring listlessly at the fire. “Stratton hasn’t died. He loves you and wants to marry you. You can join him.”

Georgiana’s bottom lip quivered. She licked a tear off her lip.

“But—but having him means losing
you
,” she whispered.

Heaving a sigh, James wedged himself next to her on the couch, drawing her into his arms. She nestled into his shoulder.

“Then stay.”

Georgiana cried harder.

“B-b-but that means leaving
him
,” she gasped.

James held her, fingers stroking her hair, gazing sightlessly into the flames.

“There is no way to make this better for you, sister dear,” he sighed. “Stratton is an earl now and justifiably tied to his life in the nineteenth century. He wants to make a difference, and I deeply admire him for it. He’s a good man, Georgie, and will do great things with his life.”

Georgiana heaved a terrible sob and then swiped at her tears. Hiccupped. “Wh-Why must this be so difficult? I’ve turned into the sniveling heroine of a gothic novel—”

“Hardly, my dear. You only
wish
to be the heroine—”

“James—” she warned.

“It’s true. As much as you want this to be a melodrama, it’s not. The decision is really quite straightforward.”

“Please. There is nothing straightforward about this.” She thumped his chest for emphasis. “It’s an awful dilemma, full of heartache no matter what I decide.”

He rested his head on her hair. “Life is full of hard choices, my dear. Life’s greatest joys are often tied to life’s greatest sorrows. Joy and pain are just two sides of the same coin. You can’t have one without the other.”

James took in a deep breath.

“I can’t believe I am actually going to do this. I have a confession to make,” he said after a moment. “Something I have never told you. Are you sure you want to hear? It’s not my finest hour.”

Mutely, she nodded her head against his chest.

“Right before Papa died, I intended to leave. I had been saving my allowance for months and managed to purchase a berth aboard a clipper bound for India.”

Georgiana stilled.

How had she not known this?

“But then Papa died, and I found myself faced with the daunting task of being scarcely twenty years old and suddenly head of the family. Mama was beside herself with grief—”

Georgiana wiped a tear from her cheek. “I remember. It was terrible. All the wailing . . .”

“Exactly. So I sent you to live with Grandmama, as I was overwhelmed and could scarcely hold things together myself—”

“Which was a wonderful choice. We moved through our grief together and—and I met Sebastian . . .” Her voice wavered.

James nodded.

“I didn’t bring this up to remind you of the past. I just wanted to help you understand what happened during those years.”

Georgiana sniffed.

James continued. “After Papa died, I didn’t give up on the dream of leaving. I worked toward slipping off on some adventure a few years later, figuring I could leave things to Arthur’s care, but then Mama died. And we both remember what a difficult time
that
was . . .”

She did remember. She had been all of sixteen and so much in need of a mother’s care. But James had shouldered the burden even then, helping her learn to navigate social situations. Helping her to move between being a girl and becoming a woman.

“I still wanted to leave. But then, a few years later, you fell ill. I committed to being with you until whatever end God saw fit to bestow. If you had recovered in the nineteenth century, I planned on seeing you happily married, and then I would head off on my grand adventure. Leaving was always in my plans.”

“But you didn’t leave, James. Well, at least, you didn’t leave me. You could have, but you always chose to do the honorable thing and—”

“Hush. Let me finish. I am eternally grateful for your health. For the chance I have had to see you whole and well and so—so
happy
. You have always been a cheerful sort of person, full of energy and sunshine. But when Stratton walks into the room, you become incandescent. Lit from within in a way I can barely describe . . .”

Something wet hit her hand.

Instantly, she pushed herself up to sitting. Seeing his liquid eyes.

“No! Nononono . . . James, I cannot bear to think of being parted from you—”

“Georgie, I never expected you and I would spend the rest of our lives in each other’s pockets.” He touched her cheek. “That’s what I am trying to tell you. I had always seen us apart. I suppose I have been fighting the reality of our separation, selfishly pulling you back to me.”

He gave a wistful travesty of a smile.

“I love you, Georgie. You have been one of the best and brightest parts of my life. But”—he held up a silencing hand—“despite my great love for you, it is
not
the same kind of love I have for Emme. Nor should it be. There is a reason why we leave our parents and siblings to join with our spouse.”

“Oh James . . .”

“We will be okay, both of us. It is enough for me to know you are happy and cared for and deeply, deeply loved. Stratton is a marvelous man. I could not give you up to anyone less than what he is.”

James brushed a tear off of her cheek. Georgiana sniffled and reached up and did the same for him.

“Besides,” he continued, “I think you have a love letter in 1813 you need to write. I would hate for you to mess up the space-time continuum somehow—”

“Oh my! I had almost forgotten about that ridiculous love note. You’re right. I
do
need to write it.”

Sebastian. How she adored him.

Beloved keeper of my soul . . . wrap me in the light of your love.

She would mean every single word.

Of course, just thinking about that letter brought home the reality of her decision. Choking, she buried her face in James’ chest again.

“Be free, sister of mine,” James whispered into her hair. “And think positively. We do have another brother. Imagine Arthur’s joy in being able to casually drop ‘
My sister, Lady Stratton, said the other day
’ into every other conversation.”

Even through her tears, Georgiana managed a good, long chuckle.

Chapter 24