Time After Time (25 page)

I was seventeen.

He always got to me.

‘Abbie…’ Marcus touched me and I flinched back, jerking my face around to see him.

‘Take me home, please,’ I said quietly.

Marcus stared at me a long moment before he nodded and started the engine.

I turned my face to the window just in time to see Rem emerge from
Hurricanes
, his face a picture of pure fury as he watched us drive away.

I had fallen asleep by the time we pulled into my driveway. Marcus carried me up to the house and I let him. I was too exhausted to bother arguing. I snuggled against his chest, thinking how nice it would be if I could stay like this forever. How much nicer
this
dream was than my regular ones.

The front door opened and I heard Meredith’s frantic voice. ‘Oh my god! Is she okay? What happened? Abbie? Abbie can you hear me?’

I nodded but couldn’t speak.

‘She’s okay,’ Marcus said dryly. ‘She’s drunk.’

‘Drunk,’ Meredith replied, stunned. ‘Abbie doesn’t drink.’

‘I know.’

‘Well,’ Meredith said slowly, ‘bring her in. Can she walk?’

I groaned at the very idea. Marcus replied, ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Oh. Can you bring her upstairs?’

Marcus followed Meredith up to my room and laid me on the bed. I rolled over onto my side and willed them all to go away. I was tired and exhausted, and I wanted to sleep. Plus, I felt a little queasy.

Meredith began tugging on my heavy black boots. ‘Marcus?’ she said questioningly.

‘Oh. Right,’ I heard him as if he spoke from a million miles away, ‘Tell Abbie I’ll come by tomorrow.’

I wanted to ask him to stay but didn’t have the energy, and I soon felt myself being sucked into a dream. Another dream, another memory of Penelope’s.

Of
mine
.

1806

Penelope wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing but didn’t feel as if she had any other choice. Since Sebastian’s arrival, since seeing him that day on the hill, she’d felt as if she traversed a dangerous path. As though her feet carried her in a direction she didn’t want to be led. And there were other things that confused her as well: the orange flowers, the way she trembled and her nerves scattered whenever Sebastian was close.

Secretly she was terrified she was going mad.

Closing the door behind her, she was careful not to make any noise as she tiptoed quietly through the manor house. Dawn was breaking outside, but she’d barely been asleep.

Making her way through the wide corridors of Broadhurst Manor, she kept glancing around to make sure no one saw her. It would be most improper if they did, and she would find little way of explaining herself. How could she explain that in the dead of the night, dressed in a nightgown and robe, she made her way to the chamber of Sebastian, her fiancé’s brother?

His room was across the hall from Heath’s, and she prayed fervently that Heath was a sound sleeper as she rapped lightly on Sebastian’s door.

He answered immediately, as if he’d been expecting her, his cold fingers closing around her wrist as he yanked her in suddenly, kicking the door shut.

Penelope gasped, her mouth falling open in surprise as he pulled her into his arms and slammed his mouth down on hers, crushing and bruising her lips beneath his in a cold, intense kiss.

She struggled against him, her arms flailing at him to no avail. He held her tightly, his thick, strong arms locking her against him. His chest was like cold, hard marble, and she felt the contrast between them starkly. As if she were made of hot flesh and blood and he something else entirely.

‘Pene, Becca, Pene,’ he murmured, his lips leaving hers to trace down her throat. He tugged at her robe and she gasped as it fell to the floor, pooling at her feet.

‘Stop, please stop,’ she whispered, struggling in his arms and pushing against him, aware that the only thing separating them was the thin material of her gown. And her state of utter confusion.

‘Never,’ he mumbled against the spot in her throat where her pulse thrummed. ‘I’ve waited so long for you to remember, Becca.’

‘Stop.’ She heaved against him. ‘Remember what? And please don’t call me Becca.’

He raised his head and cold, grey eyes stared down at her, perusing her face intently, assessing and considering her. ‘What? What do you mean? You do remember, don’t you?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She twisted in his arms and was surprised when he released her. Nonetheless, she took advantage of it and stepped away, smoothing down her nightgown and taking a moment to steady her nerves and rapid heartbeat.

‘You don’t remember?’

Something about the way he spoke made her heart lurch, breaking ever so softly for him. ‘No. Remember what? I remember you watching me, is that it? Sebastian, I didn’t come here tonight for
this
, I’ve come to ask you to leave me alone.’

He stared at her, his face stricken. ‘Why?’

‘Why?’ she gaped, ‘Because I’m engaged to your brother!’

‘Pfft,’ he waved his hand dismissively, ‘that’s easily taken care of.’

Penelope blinked. ‘Because I’m in
love
with your brother. If you love your brother as you should, then you’ll cease your constant perseverance of me.’

‘Becca, you cannot mean…’

‘Please don’t call me that,’ she hissed. ‘I don’t know who Becca is.’

‘It’s you.’

Silence greeted his grim words, and Penelope could only stare at him.
Is he mad?
she wondered,
Am I mad for coming to his room? For trusting him even a little?

He stepped forward, his eyes flashing, something in her stunned countenance obviously giving him hope. ‘You do remember, don’t you?’

She shook her head stubbornly, although something nudged the corners of her subconscious. ‘No. I don’t. But you have to stop playing with my emotions. Stop the flowers, the words, the looks…If you cared for your brother you wouldn’t do this. If you cared for me.’

She met his eyes and held them, appearing stronger than she felt. For the first time she realised what he wore and how extremely inappropriate the situation was. She in her nightgown, he in nothing but a pair of loose linen trousers, his chest smooth and bare, the muscles of his body proudly on display. He must have been sleeping before she arrived, as his hair was messy, sticking out in different directions. Her fingers twitched of their own accord with a need to touch him, to smooth down his hair and trace the hard lines of his chest and stomach.

Swallowing hard, she dragged her eyes away from his perfect body and tried not to think about the fact that only a few moments ago she’d pressed herself against his chest, felt the strong, steady thump of his heart against hers.

‘I do care,’ he whispered. ‘You know I do.’

‘Then you
must
let me go,’ she rejoined.

He shook his head. ‘I can’t. I never can. Pene, don’t you remember me?’

‘From where? From when?’

‘From…a long time ago, another life.’

She gaped at him. What was he talking about? He
was
mad, she was sure of it. Did Heath know? Did he suspect his brother was a lunatic? Was she marrying into a family of lunatics?

He was moving slowly forward, and she backed away until she felt the firm edge of the bed behind her knees and had to steady herself, grabbing hold of the bedpost just as he reached her. ‘Kiss me.’

Stubbornly, she shook her head, knowing she was doing the right thing by refusing even though a small part of her wished that he would kiss her anyway. That he would ignore her words and actions and take what he wanted, give her what she wanted.
Traitor
, she cursed herself,
strumpet
…

But as he lowered his head, she closed her eyes.

His lips were like cold marble, but she reacted to them as if they were smouldering coals, her body set atremble as she wound her arms around his neck. Her heart beat frantically, as if it might beat itself out of her chest, and she shuddered against him, surprised and confused at the tears that sprang from her eyes.

He kissed them away as he lowered her to the bed, holding her close and murmuring her name over and over, wavering between Pene and Becca. She wanted to push him away, her mind screamed at her to, her whole self screamed, reminding her who she was, how she’d been raised, and what was expected of her, but she was powerless. Completely and utterly consumed by something she didn’t understand and didn’t remember. Something bigger than her.

His hand moved down over her body, tracing the outline of her beneath the fragile nightgown before reaching to tug it up, his fingers brushing over her exposed thigh. All the time he was murmuring her name and other indescribably sweet words. Closing her eyes, she fell back on the bed and lost herself in his kisses, in the feel of him towering over her and adoring her with his eyes, his mouth, his touch.

She felt as if she was sliding into another world.

A world where Heath stared at her with hard, accusing eyes.

Her blood instantly ran cold and she felt sick. Pushing against him, she scrambled out from under him until she’d fallen to the floor at the foot of the bed.

‘Pene?’ He reached for her, but she crawled away, grabbing her robe and pulling it on, the guilt and shame curling in her belly. ‘Come back, please?’

Not looking at him, she ran to the door, knowing that if she faltered, even slightly, she would be lost and forever ruined. She hated what she’d done, hated what it might mean for her and Heath should Sebastian ever expose her.

Heath. Where had he been in the last few moments? Almost forgotten, as well as her morals and virtue. Almost.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, pausing at the door, her hand poised on the handle. ‘I shouldn’t have come.’

‘Don’t go…’

She risked a look back at him and instantly regretted it. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands as he stared at her, his face pale and stricken, the hard glint from his eyes gone as he pleaded with her.

For a moment she was torn. Something tugged within her chest, a pang, a yearning to go to him and run her hands through his thick hair. But then she remembered Heath.

‘Please, Pene,’ Sebastian said, but he blinked and she realised he knew he’d lost.

She left, running through the familiar corridors of Broadhurst towards her own chamber. She was almost there when a shadow emerged from a doorway.

‘Penelope.’

She gasped, her heart leaping to her throat. It was Jane Smith. ‘Jane! You frightened me. What are you doing?’

The other girl hesitated, suddenly looking unsure. As if she regretted hiding outside Penelope’s chamber in the middle of night. ‘I have something that I need to say to you.’

‘Jane, I’m not sure…’ Penelope’s voice trailed off uncertainly. She was still shaken from her encounter with Sebastian.

‘You want to hear this,’ Jane said, her voice low and hushed. ‘It’s important.’

Penelope blinked but didn’t reply.

‘Come and visit us tomorrow. It’s Sunday. I’ll tell mother to expect you.’ Jane didn’t wait for an answer but vanished down the hall, leaving Penelope to stare after her.

Wondering how Jane had known where she was.

Penelope was in her attic trying to capture the Manor at night, just as Heath had suggested. The canvas stood before her, but all she’d managed to create was a brief outline of the manor house and the over-large moon hanging ominously above.

A noise on the ladder caught her attention, and she was glad when she saw Georgina climb up.

Georgina took a seat and stared thoughtfully at the canvas. ‘So many of the Manor,’ she observed, ‘You paint little else.’

‘That’s not true,’ Penelope argued. ‘There are just as many of the parsonage.’

Georgina’s eyes swept over the paintings around the room. An odd and uneasy silence hung between the two of them, and Penelope waited for Georgina to begin. She didn’t have to wait long. ‘We haven’t seen you for a few days. I thought you might be unwell still?’

Penelope flushed guiltily. She’d sent a note to Georgina the day after the dance saying she was ill and wouldn’t be visiting as planned. Since then she’d avoided the Manor, wanting to stay away not from the house, which she adored, but from Sebastian, who still loitered there. Plus Jane Smith and her all-knowing eyes. Penelope hadn’t visited the Smiths either, as Jane had requested.

‘No, I’m much better.’

Georgina watched her carefully, her sharp, blue eyes taking note of everything, every flush, every flicker of Penelope’s eye. ‘It’s not me you wish to avoid, is it?’

‘Of course not,’ Penelope rushed to reassure her. ‘You know you could never offend me, Georgie.’

‘What is it then? Harry? I wouldn’t be surprised. But you know better than to take offence at anything Harry has to say. Heath? You wish to avoid him? You wish to call off your engagement?’

Penelope shook her head fervently, surprised at the tears in her eyes. ‘No. Does he wish to call it off?’

Georgina gaped at her. ‘Penelope, no! Why would he? Does he have a reason to? Other than the fact that you’re avoiding him?’

Penelope flushed, looking and feeling shamefaced. ‘No. I don’t think he has a reason to call off our engagement.’ An image of Sebastian looming over her, his eyes full of passion and lust, filled her mind, and her flush deepened.

‘Are you sure?’ Georgina said before adding very quietly, ‘Pene, I saw you.’

Penelope blinked. ‘Saw me?’

‘Go into Sebastian’s room the night of the dance.’

She blanched. ‘Oh.’

‘What were you thinking? He’s Heath’s brother!’

‘I know, but I just went to talk to him…’

‘In the middle of the night?’

‘It was dawn.’ It was a feeble response and she knew it.

‘Are you in love with Sebastian?’

‘No!’ she cried. ‘No. I’m not.’

Georgina gazed at the half-empty canvas. ‘He seems to be in love with you. What you did…’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Penelope explained, ignoring how thick the lie felt in her mouth. Her mind filled with memories of what she
did
do. His kiss, his touch, his gaze as it raked over her, his hand on her bare thigh. ‘It’s just…he makes me feel…’