My Own True Love (33 page)

"How do you know?" she demanded before she realized she was speaking out loud to the ring. The ring hadn't said anything in weeks. She figured it was sulking even though it had voluntarily given up the brooch to help Lewis.

"How do I know what?" Rudeseko asked. "That the fellow looks familiar? He does. And you've described him well enough, though I didn't actually look at his butt."

"I know it's him," the ring told her, "because I can sense his presence near the brooch. They belong together the way you and I do."

Lewis was alive! Lewis was alive! Lewis was alive! And well and in the next room. What was she waiting for? Sara very nearly jumped up and down with happiness. Grinning like a fool, she punched the air with a fist and crowed, "Yes!"

Guards and servants in the hallway looked at her strangely, but Captain Rudeseko just gave an accepting nod. "So," he said. "I suspected as much." He rubbed his strongly cleft chin. "Best not to cause a scene." Sara was ready to rush into the banquet room and start shouting for Lewis. Rudeseko firmly took her arm again. "Come with me."

He drew her into a nearby alcove where a tall gold fountain bubbled like overflowing champagne into a circular base filled with white and yellow water lilies. There was a mural of a blooming rain forest painted on the little room's walls. Gold planters of scarlet and pink and purple orchids bloomed beneath a glittering crystal chandelier. He gently pushed her onto one of the curving marble benches that circled the fountain.

"Wait here."

She complied in frustration. She'd give him five minutes to bring Lewis to her, no more; then she was going to find him herself. Meanwhile, to keep from pacing or screaming with impatience she remembered she was carrying her guitar. She fiddled with the tuning for a bit, then started to play.

******************

Lewis was happy enough to escape from the banquet. The doors connecting the dining room with the ballroom had been opened and Duke Alexander was busy conducting the orchestra at present. The result was not pretty. People were trying to dance to the noise, anyway, which meant dodging around the edges of the crowd to avoid couples lurching to what was supposed to be a waltz. He felt momentarily safer once he and Rudeseko were in the hallway.

What he wasn't happy about was that it was the captain of the palace guards who had asked for a word in private with him. Of course he was anxious for a private word with the man, but being singled out by the captain held alarming possibilities to Lewis.

"Yes?" he demanded before Rudeseko could say anything.

"I think you'll want to be alone for a while," the captain said, motioning him toward an open door.

Lewis could see flowers and dancing water beyond. Then he heard the music. A string instrument being strummed so softly it was barely audible above the muffled sound coming from the ballroom.

His heart twisted with joy. "Sara?"

"I'll return shortly," Rudeseko added as Lewis hurried forward. Lewis paid no attention to him.

She looked up as he entered, her eyes filled with delight as she saw him. He grinned like a madman and hurried to her. The guitar dropped to the floor with a thrumming thud when she jumped up to meet him.

"You're alive!" they said together.

Then they laughed and their lips met in a hungry, desperate kiss. At some point Lewis tasted the salt of tears; whether they were his or hers he didn't know. "Oh, Lord, Sara," he whispered after a while. "I've been scared to death."

"Me too." She rubbed her head against his shoulder. "You're alive." She lifted her head and looked at him. "You've lost weight."

He held her away from him, his hands on her waist. "You've gained some weight."

Sara put her hands on his shoulders. "I don't want to talk about it," she said automatically. She touched his hair. "Oh, Lewis, I liked it long."

"It'll grow." He pulled her close again. She smelled of roses and he felt the softness of velvet under his hands. "You are so beautiful," he told her; then he chuckled just before their lips met again.

Sara's head pulled back. "What's so funny?" she demanded with narrowed eyes.

"I am," he acknowledged. "I am." He shook his head. "I am such a fool."

"Yeah, okay, I'll go along with that," she agreed.

He gave her an amused glower. "I'm your long-lost—"

"Own True Love."

"You're supposed to say I'm wonderful and would never, ever act like a fool."

"Yeah, but I know better," she reminded him. "We're both fools, okay? Now let's fool around."

"I thought you wanted to know why I laughed."

"It could wait."

He recalled that they were in the middle of the enemy camp. They might not have much time, and there were some things he needed to say. "I love you," was the first one.

"I love you too." She ruffled his short hair. "I love you so much."

"Even though I'm a fool."

She stepped back and crossed her arms. "I'm horny and you want to talk. You could drive me to drink, Lewis Morgan, if I weren't, well, you know."

"With child," he said, and gave her a look that dared her to deny it.

She winced, but said, "Yeah. That."

"With my child."

Her hands went to her hips, and fire blazed in her dark eyes. "And just who else would be the father?"

He held his hands up in front of him. "No one. My baby. I'm delighted."

"You'd better be, you lying
gajo
scum."

His heart warmed at her words. "She loves me," he announced to the orchids. "She really loves me."

"I thought you were dead," she said, turning serious once more. "I was so afraid for you."

"I thought you were imprisoned," he told her. "I was going mad with fear of what they'd done to you."

"Oh, really." She grew sarcastic. "Worry from the man who was going to send me to the prison hulks."

He felt the color draining out of his face. He couldn't look at her when he spoke. "That was—" He made a helpless gesture. "A lifetime ago."

The dark red velvet dress suited her like nothing else he'd ever seen her in. He found himself wondering how she dressed in the time she really came from. More importantly, he remembered in detail everything she'd worn since she'd appeared in his time. And everything she hadn't worn, as well. He shook his head. "It's taken me so long to realize that you're you. You're the same, no matter what you're wearing or where you are, you are you." He paused. "You've become more real to me every moment I've known you. And I've become a stranger to myself in the process. I love
you.
What you are doesn't matter, but what I am does."

Sara put the guitar on the bench, then folded her hands across her stomach. "Are you going to grovel over treating me like an object? A pawn? A less than human thing?"

"I was planning on it," he said. "You deserve a thousand apologies."

She shook her head. "One's enough. Accepted. Let's just cut to the chase, okay?"

He sat down beside her. The guitar was between them. "I don't understand," he told her.

"I know. It's this class thing. You were raised to think your class is better than anyone else's. You're a preppy, hon. Worse, you're an English noble who's scared to death he won't be accepted anymore if he makes one little false move—like marrying a Rom." She reached across the guitar to put her hand over his. "You just have to get over it, babe."

"I am over it." He spoke with painful slowness, because turning his back on the only life he'd ever known was hard even though she was worth it. She was the only thing that made the future they were going to have bearable. "I'm taking you home with me," he said. "I'll make you my wife no matter what my father or anyone says."

Sara's hand tightened painfully on his. "Damn it, Lewis, I am your wife!" she told him. "And it doesn't have to be that bad. I've got other plans in mind."

Before he could ask what precisely she had in mind Rudeseko came in. Sir Horace was with him.

Lewis stood protectively over Sara as the men entered.

Sara stood, and glared at the ambassador. "Oh, it's you," she said. "Bring your horsewhip along?"

Sir Horace looked startled. "I beg your pardon, young woman?"

"That's Mrs. Morgan to you," she said haughtily. "Isn't it, Lewis?"

"I—uh—"

"Lewis!"

"You're wanted now, Sara," Rudeseko said before he could find any words.

The guard captain gave him a searching look, and Lewis shook his head. Sara obviously didn't see the danger she placed herself in by claiming a relationship with a British spy. She didn't seem to fear Rudeseko, and it was Rudeseko who had arranged their reunion. But why? Lewis had to be cautious for both of them until he found out on whose side the captain was playing.

"Now, Sara," Rudeseko ordered. "His Highness is asking for you." The man's gaze swept over Lewis and the ambassador. "My master is not one to be kept waiting," he reminded them. "Go, Sara," he said when she hesitated. "I'll deal with these two."

She grumbled a curse, but grabbed her guitar and hurried out the door.

Lewis squared his shoulders and faced the big Bororavian. "After the performance," he announced,

"Sara is leaving with me."

"Sara," he was informed, "is the permanent guest of the Grand Duke Alexander. She stays in the palace, Englishman."

"She goes with me."

"My boy," Sir Horace said warningly.

"She leaves with me, and you're not going to stop me."

"I am," Rudeseko replied calmly.

"You and what army?" Lewis asked.

"No army," the captain answered with a slow smile. "I do have the palace guard under my command, if you recall."

Which, of course, Lewis hadn't.

Chapter 22

"We might have been
able to reason with the man if you hadn't insisted on causing such a row," Sir Horace complained as the embassy door closed behind them. He handed his coat to the butler. "That is the first time in my long career that I have ever been forcibly ejected from a celebration held in my honor."

Lewis did not want to talk about it. "I've got to get Sara out of there," he said, pacing up and down the embassy's front hall. He started for the door but Sir Horace stepped in front of him.

"Young man," he announced angrily, "we have more important matters to discuss than your love life."

"No, we don't," Lewis answered shortly. "Get out of my way," he ordered his superior. "I'm going back to the palace."

"You're doing no such thing." Sir Horace put his hand on his arm. "Not just yet, anyway. Tomorrow is soon enough. Your ladybird is quite safe for now."

The man's words were so calmly reassuring they almost penetrated the red fog of anger that had come over Lewis when Rudeseko had refused to let Sara leave. He calmed down enough to realize that arguing with the ambassador was futile. He sighed. "Very well," he said. "I'll stay put. For now."

"Good." Sir Horace urged him toward his study. "Come along, have a brandy with me. We need to talk." The butler hurried ahead of them to serve the drinks. Lewis would rather have gone straight to his room instead of wasting time, but he went reluctantly along with the older man.

"I have a task for you," the ambassador said when they were alone.

Lewis stood by the window, looking across the street to the palace. Outside, the flags hung like drying laundry in the still night air. He could see Sir Horace's reflection in the glass. The older man stood by the fireplace, swirling a snifter of brandy in one hand. Lewis had decided to decline the offer of a drink; he wanted to keep his head clear.

If he didn't get on with the conversation he'd be here all night. "What task?" he asked roughly.

He'd wanted a direct answer, but instead Sir Horace said, "I've had quite enough of the duke. I'm beginning to see why all the broadsides he read to us tonight refer to him as the mad duke. A palace in India, indeed! My boy, something has to be done about that madman!"

"So you can get the treaty signed and go home?" Lewis found himself asking. It annoyed him that he was going to allow himself to be drawn into a political discussion when he had a more important task to perform. He turned from the window. "You've decided to aid one of the factions in overthrowing the madman," he guessed. "It must be the Rom faction, or you wouldn't need my help."

"Just so," Sir Horace agreed with an emphatic nod. He put his glass on the mantel and crossed the room to his writing table. Lewis came to stand beside the table while Sir Horace opened a drawer and brought out a key. "That opens the East India Company warehouse on the docks," he told Lewis.

"The one where the weapons are stored?"

Sir Horace nodded. He tossed the key to Lewis. "I want you to deliver it to the gypsy leader. This evening. Why are you grinning at me like that, you insolent pup?"

Lewis didn't just grin; he threw back his head and laughed. When he stopped laughing Sir Horace was looking more disgruntled than before. "Because," he told his old friend, "the Rom leader is the girl you wouldn't let me rescue earlier tonight."

Dark brows drew down over Sir Horace's sharp blue eyes. "Sara is truly the one leading the rebellion? You're sure?" Lewis nodded. "I thought you were joking. That pretty little gypsy girl?" he asked, obviously not willing to believe that Sara was more than just one of the rebels. Lewis nodded again. "Your ladybird?"

"My wife," Lewis corrected firmly. He was surprised that he didn't feel odd finally saying it. Just a great deal of pride. The memory of kneeling with her in the firelight and sharing bread and salt and vows flashed through his mind. Of course she was his wife.

"So she's your wife now, is she?" Sir Horace questioned. "Since when?"

"She's always been my wife," Lewis admitted. "I just didn't know it until a moment ago."

"Well. I see." Sir Horace shook his head; then he smiled conspiratorially. "I suppose you'll just have to go rescue her then, won't you?"

"Yes," Lewis said, affectionately smiling at the ambassador. He looked toward the window. "Don't worry, Sir Horace, I have a plan."

******************

Lewis was glad there was no wind and that the night was dark and that the flag rope was a strong one. He wasn't at all happy about the frigid temperature. He was in stocking feet, with his shoes tucked in the pockets of his black coat, standing on the roof of the embassy. He looked at the rope stretched across the narrow distance between it and the palace roof, then reached a foot out to test it delicately one more time. It seemed taut enough. He nodded and edged forward.