Enemy of Mine (11 page)

His smile vanished. He swallowed.

Then he gingerly held Erva’s knee with one hand, the other gently applied the ice.

“Am I hurting the lady?” he asked.

Erva didn’t answer. She forgot she was
the lady
, but Erato cleared her throat and pointedly pursed her lips at her.

“Oh,” Erva whispered. “No, not at all, my lord.” Her knee felt the chill of the ice, but the rest of her body had turned into molten lava. Will’s large hand felt even hotter through her torn stocking. His body’s heat crashed into her.

Her breasts were suddenly too sensitive, and her corset felt too tight. Even through the layers of her shift, stays, stomacher and dress, Erva thought her nipples might be poking through, alerting Will to her arousal just because the man held her leg.

But she had an odd audience of two muses. It was
so
not the time to feel randy. For a man who lived in the eighteenth century, she reminded herself. Oh, and he was going to die soon.

God, this situation had fifteen different colors of crazy all over it. Even if she weren't supposedly insane.

“All right, my lord, I think you’ve got it. You’ll need to do this again tomorrow,” Clio said.

Will nodded, but didn’t release his careful hold of Erva’s leg.

Clio forced the ice from him, then basically shoved him aside and away. “Are you sure you heard me? You need to apply the ice tomorrow, got it?”

Will blinked than finally glanced at the muse, not Erva’s leg. “Yes, but doesn’t she need the ice to linger on her knee longer this evening?”

Clio smiled altogether too widely. “Why, yes, she does, but I can do that. I won’t be here tomorrow, so you’ll have to do it then.”

“I—oh,” Will stuttered.

Clio pushed him toward the door. “We need a word with the lady, so you’ll excuse us.”

“Um, yes, I—”

“Remember, tomorrow, mayhap first thing, she’ll need you for her icing.”

Will was at the doorway, when he spun around and glanced over Clio’s shoulder at Erva. “I—I—if you need anything, my lady, please call upon me. I—yes, you can call me.”

Erva couldn’t help but grin at the guy, standing there looking so handsome and so befuddled at the same time. “I will.”

“Good. I hope you do—I hope for a quick recovery.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

His jaw line kicked, but he gave her a small smile. “Good—good night, Erva.”

“Good night, Will.”

After the door was latched behind the tall, muscular frame of Will’s retreating form, Erato let loose an odd laugh that cusped close to a phlegmy cough. “Subtle. Very subtle, Sister.”

Clio’s brows were cast down. “What now? One moment I’m a spoil sport, the next I’m not subtle enough for you?”

Erato plopped herself close to Erva again. “Why didn’t you just strip poor, little Minerva? It would have driven the point home a bit more clearly.”

“Why are you using such sarcasm on me? I’m trying to prove I’m not a spoil sport.”

Erato sighed. “I’m sorry I said that. I was just kidding around. But seriously, you shouldn’t have forced William between Erva’s legs. The poor man almost had a heart attack. Did you hear his heart beating?”

“You could hear his heart beating?” Erva asked

“Yes,” both the muses replied.

“Was it beating fast?”

Erato giggled. “Like a race horse. The man really likes you, finds you very attractive.”

“Which? Does he like me? Or does he find me attractive?”

Erato studied Erva for a moment. “They don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

What Erato said certainly crept into Erva’s heart and lit some dynamite. She blinked, trying hard to think clearly. If she were being honest with herself then, yes, she had thought they were mutually exclusive. She’d dated men who found her attractive, but as soon as she revealed an ounce of who she was, they were gone. At least, that was the case with her husband. She’d tried so hard to cover herself, make sure he knew that, yeah, she was an academic, but she wouldn’t lord it over him. And, yes, she was an excellent shot and could play hard with the boys, but she would hide that if it bothered him. She’d hidden so much of herself.

She remembered again how Will had stood back at the British bulwark and seemed proud of her for making all those shots. Even at the banquet, when meeting his superiors, Erva thought Will was proud of her for saying so much, although she realized that what she had said was seriously close to sedition in 1776. Yet there he stood, right beside her, smiling down at her like he...like he admired her.

Erato caressed a piece of Erva’s hair behind her ear. “Sweetie, why don’t you do something regarding the way you feel about William?”

Erva stared at the muse. “Because...I don’t belong here. I’m not from this time. I’m only getting a glimpse, and worst of all he’s going to die.”

“What is that saying, dear sister?” Clio asked. “Ah, yes, ‘Better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all.’ That’s one of your best statements, I’ve always thought.”

Erva rolled her eyes. “Lord Tennyson wrote that.”

Erato cackled a dry laugh. “Of course, I gave him the credit for it, but that was all me, my dear.”

Erva blinked, having quite a hard time letting that filter through her defenses. “This is hard for me to wrap my head around.”

“Oh! I have just the thing for that then,” Clio said. She rushed to the bureau, unfastened it then retracted a small dark wooden box with an intricate Greek-looking design around the top of it—something like small waves interlacing with each other. She sat carefully next to Erato. “Open it please.”

Erva lifted the lid, staring in amazement at the treasures. “Oh,” she stammered.

“It’s some of your favorite things from home. Of course, your iPhone won’t get any reception, but I’ve charged it so it won’t die while you’re here. You can listen to your music and read books now. I’ve also made sure you had your razor. The straight blades of this time are great for scars, but not much else. And I packed your favorite facial scrub and lotion and toothbrush and toothpaste.”

Erva reached out and clamped onto Clio then Erato too in a big hug. “Thank you.”

After releasing them, Erva was surprised to see Erato had standing tears in her large turquoise eyes.

“You are quite deserving of this
glimpse
, Erva.”

Before Erva could say thank you again, Clio said, “I told you she was.”

A tear surfed down Erato’s alabaster cheek.

Erva shook her head slightly. “What’s wrong then?”

Erato fetched Erva’s hand and held it. “I’m happy. So happy you’re here, so happy you like Will so much and find him attractive as well.”

Erva retracted her hand from the muse and glanced down at her lap, covered in too many frilly skirts. “It’s stupid the way I feel.”

Both the muses gasped. Clio grabbed Erva’s face and held it between her hands. “Don’t ever say that, Minerva. Please don’t ever say that again. Your emotions are valid.”

“But they aren’t real. Or they are real if I had lived in the eighteenth century. Besides, what am I going on about? I doubt Will feels anything toward me, other than—”

“I get it,” Erato interrupted, while Clio released Erva’s face. “You’ve been scarred by life. You don’t trust people. You’re scared.”

Erva took in a shaky breath, not wanting to admit the truth of everything Erato had just summed up.

“So, Erva, while you’re here, be brave. You already have been with the shooting and saying exactly what’s on your mind. Now, though, you can be the woman you’ve always wanted to be. Seduce Will just because you feel like it. Or hold his hand, if that’s what you want. My sister gave you this
glimpse
not just for Will’s sake, so you can redeem his character when you get back home, but this is for you too.” Erato smiled through her tears. “Minerva, you incredible human woman, this is a
glimpse
for you to see who you really can be. Please be brave enough to be you.”

Chapter 11

I
t had been a near sleepless night, and Will woke feeling so alone in his dark bed, the morning just approaching with violet streaks against the black sky. He couldn’t focus on anything, save Erva. Lord, she was so...beautiful, yes, but she was intelligent, hilarious, talented, sympathetic, compassionate, and passionate.

Everything he’d ever wanted in a woman.

Then again, he’d only known her for one day. Mayhap she wasn’t who she purported herself to be. Mayhap she was a schemer.

No, he told himself, he knew she wasn’t. He was trying to look for faults in the woman, a natural defense of his he’d adapted after his wife. He’d never let himself see the way his Julia could act so boisterous one minute, the next overwhelmingly melancholia. He hadn’t let himself see the warning signs that something was amiss. Not that he’d have changed Julia. Even with her moods and visions, she was one of the most glorious people Will had ever known. Nay, he’d not change a thing about his precious wife.

However, he’d change everything about himself.

That reminded him of how he hadn’t come to Erva’s defense last night at the banquet. He hadn’t stopped Winny from pushing Erva to perform in front of the crowd. Angrily he realized he still was the same sop who let a horde of people cow him, as he had with Julia. He cringed when he thought of his wife at the beginning of their marriage, performing in front of that mob of gossiping, snobbish nobles. Being a new husband he didn’t know his role, didn’t know how to protect his wife, or even whom to protect her from. He’d been cheering her on to sing for the snots, although he saw her terror, the wild look in her eye. But he’d pushed her to sing and had regretted it for the rest of his life.

Yet Erva had sung and played the pianoforte like a magician. She had single-handedly hushed the crowd. Instead of feeling pushed into a corner, the woman had shoved back. She’d performed so marvelously that everyone had to stop and take stock in whose voice was wafting a spell through the air. It wasn’t an easy feat, Will knew, to tame a crowd of socialites. But Erva had done it. And with so much grace he could hardly stand not to cry himself.

She was strong and intelligent. Yes, she was so much of everything Will had forced himself to stop hoping for.

Dare he dream again?

After thinking about the many erotic reveries he’d had regarding Erva in his sleep, he knew he already had. He lay still, thinking about the kiss they’d shared last night. How it had accelerated to breakneck speed was beyond him, but he didn’t regret that. Well, mayhap a little. If she let him kiss her again, he’d try to take things slower, savor her taste and lips. Lord, she was so sweet. He couldn’t help but remember the way her body felt under his, the way she rocked into him, making him feel that she wanted him almost as much as he wanted her.

He woke hard and let his hand curve around his length. God, the way she moaned when he’d landed on her was something he would think of over and over again. Even through his breeches and the layers of her skirts between them, he’d felt her hot little body press into his. He stroked his cock thinking about it, reminding himself of the way she’d kissed him, her tongue in his mouth. The way her chest had pressed against his—oh, that had been heaven. Closing his eyes, he thought about her breasts free from her stays, from any confines. He ached to touch them, kiss them, caress her until she mewled for him again.

He was working himself into a state of utter desire, when he heard something crash outside his chamber. Releasing his grip on himself, he tried to take a breath to clear his mind. What if Erva was already awake? He needed to ice her knee, did he not?

He took another breath and tried to sit up. His erection pressed into his stomach. Looking down, he shook his head at his member. He could relieve himself quickly. Or he could ready himself just as fast and see to Erva. The thought of seeing the woman in the flesh was much more appealing than his fantasies, so he jumped out of his bed. Although the sun still had yet to rise, there was enough purple-blue light to see. Cleaning himself with icy cold water in a basin, he thanked God the water was frigid. It helped lessen his desire for the lady. A little.

Yanking on his white breeches somewhat tamed his erection, as well as wrestling his hair back into a black ribbon, but it was while brushing his teeth that he finally simmered down to a presentable state. All he had to do was put on his shirt and collar and waistcoat and...he’d never thought before how inconvenient dressing was. Spitting into another basin while finishing cleaning his teeth, he heard a soft rap on his door. Surmising it must be Paul or his valet with his a choice of cravats, he barked, “Enter.”

He didn’t look up as he swirled his toothbrush one last time through his mouth, but just waited for Paul to say something as he usually did. Hearing the door latch, he finally turned, toothbrush in his mouth, at the beauty that was Erva. She stood wearing a dark gray dressing robe and held a lit candleholder. The taper gave her a luscious pink glow, making her eyes appear lucidly amber.

“I—I’m sorry,” she said, while her gaze bounced down his unclad body. “I should have waited.”

“No, I—it’s fine,” he mumbled around his toothbrush. After rolling his eyes, he placed the brush on his bureau. He stood, not daring to walk closer to her, for she seemed eager to leave his chamber, which he didn’t want her to do. No matter the impropriety of her being here, he wanted her exactly where she stood. Actually, a little closer, but he’d suffice to have her ten feet away. “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded. “You?”

He hadn’t, but he nodded too. “How is your knee this morning?”

She grimaced. “More stiff than I’d like.”

Her pain finally broke Will from the desire-induced spell of thinking only of his body and hers. He strode closer to her, to the door, saying, “I’ll fetch the ice.”

She held out a hand to him. “No, I—” She stopped talking the instant her hand met his bare arm. Erva stared at where she touched him.

He should have removed himself. He should have put on a shirt. He knew that much. But the way she looked at him was too delicious, too intoxicating to force himself to do the right thing.

“My lady?”

“Before the ice, what are we doing today?”

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I have no itinerary as of yet.”

She finally glanced up at him, her amber eyes like the sun setting in a dark horizon. Will had noticed yesterday that her eyelashes were extraordinarily long, but being blonde they were hardly noticeable. However, with the early morning pale light cracking its way through the windows and her rosy candle, her eyelashes looked like two lovely wings over her brown eyes. By God, but she was beautiful.

“You usually would have a schedule, wouldn’t you? If I weren’t here?”

He slowly nodded, noticing and relishing the fact she had yet to release her hold on him.

“What would you normally do?” Her voice sounded husky.

“What we did yesterday. Since Admiral Howe and the Continental Congress have met, we are preparing for...” He rethought telling her about the soon-to-be battle. But he had wanted to tell her. It was odd, but he wanted to share everything with her. However, he was sworn to secrecy about the coming attack, so he said, “There is little for my men to do, other than our daily drills.”

“And reconnaissance.” After saying as much her eyes widened, alarmed.

He narrowed his own eyes, wondering...Lord, she could be spy. He wouldn’t put it past the Continental Congress to send such a seductress into his fortress. They were surprisingly conniving and savvier than many British leaders gave them credit for. He’d met Benjamin Franklin once, at a salon in London, where he’d gotten to hear the American talk about science and reforming hospitals so everyone was granted a doctor. Franklin had spoken quite adamantly about having a public hospital, one that could specialize in mental disorders. It was whispered that Franklin’s own nephew suffered from a brain disease, hence the push for a public hospital specializing in what was considered an affliction of the will, or even demonic beings playing havoc on a soul.

Knowing Julia as well as he did, Will never thought she suffered from a lack of desire to not have her visions, nor from any evil cause. She had been an angel. Well, before her visions bested her, she had been. But even when her hallucinations clawed through her, he’d seen her heart and knew her to be only sweet and wonderful.

“I shouldn’t say such things, I suppose,” Erva said, pulling Will back into the room with her, especially when her hand released him. “I’m too curious.”

“I don’t mind your curiosity.” Although he should have. He should suspect her more, but he couldn’t. Not when he stared down into her eyes, her hair long and loose and so intimate he ached to run his fingers through her tresses. “And, yes, I have daily reconnaissance against the Continental Army.”

“Why are you—” She stopped herself again. This time she bit her lush bottom lip and looked away.

“Why am I what?” He should have let her question falter, but he had to know for himself if she were a spy or not. The more questions she asked, the more she would reveal herself.

The anomalous thought flittered through his mind though that he wasn’t too sure if he cared if she were a spy or not.

She glanced back up at him, her eyes wide and timid. “Why are you here?”

That, he hadn’t expected. A spy would wonder about his men, his drills, his arms, anything else that mattered to the war. Not a philosophical question about why he was here. But even the reason why he was here could be used against him, if court martialed. He hadn’t realized that thus far. Then again, he’d thought he wouldn’t have survived this long in the war. In his mind, he would have no reason to be court martialed. He wouldn’t be alive for it.

She licked her lips and slightly shook her head. “I mean, you didn’t vote for any of the acts the Americans protested. The newspapers said that you didn’t support any kind of action against the Americans. You don’t support this war, yet here you are. Why?”

“Why not?” He tried to deflect the conversation.

She narrowed her eyes, no longer looking sheepish but challenging, ruthless, and so lovely. He liked her best like this, shooting faster than most of his men, speaking of sedition to his superiors, the Howe brothers. Lord, how he liked it when her eyes caught fire and turned back into dark red-brown honey. His veins pumped his too hot blood through his body.

“Why not, hmm?” She gave him a wicked smile. “Why not, indeed. I think you don’t want to be here.”

“On the contrary, there is no other place I’d rather be.”

She blinked, then caught his meaning that standing so close to her was exactly where he’d love to be. Arching a blonde brow, she said, “You know what I mean, obtuse man.”

He silently chuckled at his new name.

“I think you don’t want to be in this war.”

He felt his own mirth leave his face. “You might be right.”

“Then why are you here? Why do you fight? Especially so efficiently?”

“Do I?”

She growled, making Will grin again. “Quit evading the questions with your own.”

“Why? This is fun.”

She smacked one of his shoulders, then he caught her small hand in his.

“Is this fun for you too?” he asked, carefully gauging her reaction as he twined his fingers through hers.

She didn’t look at their hands. Instead, her gaze was focused on his chest. He especially enjoyed that, as if she found him desirable. Lord, he hoped so, that he wasn’t making a fool of himself.

She never answered, but looked up at him, her long lashes batting. He took hold of her candle and set it on a nearby table. In so doing he’d gotten that much closer to her, and just as he was thinking of holding her other hand, she reached up, probably on her toes, and kissed him.

This time he reacted immediately. His lips melded with hers. She tasted strongly of mint, and he licked the seam of her lips to enjoy. She opened for him, and he dove his tongue into her mouth. God, she was sweet. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he pulled her closer by holding onto her not-corseted waist. Next her tongue was inside his mouth, and he couldn’t help but pull her even closer, her stomach against his, her breasts crushed against his chest.

Will felt Erva fiddle with the ribbon at the nape of his neck, and his hair was released from its hold. Instantly, her hands raked through his mane. It gave him silent permission to finally take hold of her tresses with one of his hands. Pure silk ran through his fingers. He loved her long hair, so wild and free this moment. Like the color of corn silk, Erva’s locks were close to white with a light dandelion sheen. He fisted what he held, which tilted her head back, all the better to deepen the kiss. She moaned into his mouth. All his blood rushed south. That little noise was his undoing.

He kissed along her cheek, her delicate jaw, and nipped at her neck. She mewled again and arched more into him. He glanced at her visage, so wrapped in desire, her eyes closed, her lips swollen and dark.

“Oh, Erva, I should have shaved.”

“What?”

“Your mouth...I should have shaved. I’m—”

“I like it.”

He huffed, forcing himself to stop enough to hear her. “Pardon?”