Window on Yesterday (17 page)

As a sigh of relief whispered through Lettie’s lips, a soft light of compassion sprang to life in her eyes.” ‘Tis not an easy thing to leave loved ones and friends and home to go to a strange place,” she said in a gentle tone. “But I would that you believe there are new friends who love you and wish only to help you find happiness in your new home.”

Alycia was fully aware that Lettie was referring to Alice, and her loss of family, friends, and her home in Philadelphia. But as Alice was—who knew where?—and Alycia was standing in her stead, she applied Lettie’s words to her situation and to herself. Acting on impulse, Alycia stepped forward and embraced the other woman.

“Thank you.” Alycia sniffed and smiled a she stepped away from the obviously surprised Lettie. “Now,” she said briskly, allowing her smile to curve impishly, “when can we expect this fine figure of a man, the deliciously handsome Major Halloran?”

Her moment of pleasurable embarrassment over, Lettie swept across the room and opened the door. “Presently, mistress. Would you not enjoy watching his approach from the landing window?”

“I would indeed!” Alycia exclaimed, laughing as she followed the stately woman from the room.

Alycia was seated on the broad, padded windowsill on the spacious second-story landing, absently, impatiently smoothing her chintz skirt, when she caught sight of a horseman coming up the drive at a respectable trot. The horse stood sixteen or seventeen hands high and was a handsome animal, with its highly arched neck and proud, dancing step. The man was more handsome still.

Her heartbeat grew fluttery as Patrick reined the horse in at the foot of the fan-shaped front steps. Her breathing grew shallow as he swung one long leg over the saddle and dismounted. Her senses propelled her into action as he took the steps two at a time.

Beating the butler by five seconds, Alycia met Patrick at the door. With a disapproving frown and an audible snort, the butler retired to his pantry.

“Good evening, Mistress Alice,” Patrick said formally as he stepped into the entrance hall. Moving one leg back, he bent and made his sweeping bow.

“Good evening, Major.” Not to be outdone, Alycia lifted her skirt daintily and sank into the deep curtsy she had practiced at odd moments over the previous week. As she rose, she glanced through the open doorway at the horse, then back at him, a tiny frown marring her brow. “You have no ... er... accoutrements?” she asked, hoping she’d used the correct term for luggage.

Patrick’s auburn eyebrows arched in surprise. “I believe my man delivered my effects one hour ago.”

“Oh.” Alycia felt her cheeks flame and had to laugh at her girlish reaction to him. “I did not know,” she added in a more worldly manner.

“I reckoned as much,” Patrick drawled slowly, softly, smiling in a way that turned the flame on her cheeks inward to sear her entire body.

Beguiled, Alycia stared at him, lips slightly parted, thrilling to the fire that leaped suddenly in the depths of his blue eyes. His lips moved just a fraction, and she thought she heard him whisper her name as he took one step toward her.

“Oh, there you are, Major!” Caroline exclaimed, skirts swinging as she hurried into the hall from the drawing room. “Alice, my dear, why did you not inform us of the major’s arrival?”

“Because the major has only this moment arrived, ma’am,” Patrick answered for Alycia, while offering Caroline a bow.

“Indeed? Well, then, you must be in need of liquid refreshment.” Moving to him, Caroline laid her hand on his arm. “Please come in and have a seat.” As she urged Patrick into motion, she glanced over her shoulder at Alycia. “I would that you join us, niece.”

In honor of the major’s presence, dinner was lavish. Alycia went through the motions of chewing and swallowing, but she didn’t taste any of it. She was entirely too engrossed in the guest seated across the table from her to notice such a mundane thing as food. Content to listen to his soft Virginia drawl and thrill to the admiring, almost smitten, glances he gave her, Alycia contributed little to the conversation and paid scant attention to it until near the end of the meal. Alycia’s hearing was sharpened by a question posed by her uncle.

“I was given to understand that your stay with us will be brief, Patrick. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Patrick replied. “I leave at week’s end to rejoin my company and commander.”

Commander?
Commander?
Alycia lowered her eyes to conceal the alarm she knew was reflected there. Instinctively, she knew that Patrick was referring to General Washington as his commander. Aware of the date, Alycia also knew that General Washington was somewhere near Philadelphia, where he had allowed his march-weary men to collapse while he tried to outthink Major General William Howe, in an effort to determine whether Howe’s destination was Philadelphia, Charleston, or the Hudson River. Fear curled in Alycia’s stomach. The date was August 16, and by his own statement, Patrick was planning to leave on August 20. Washington had received the news that the British would sail up the Chesapeake on August 22. Alycia slid her hands from the table to her lap. Her fingers groped for a chain that no longer encircled her wrist.

Patrick was leaving to join his commander on the banks of the Brandywine Creek!

The remainder of the evening was a blur to Alycia. With scrupulous honesty, she acknowledged the feelings, emotional and physical in nature, unfurling inside her for him. She wanted time to be with him, to get to know him. But she was to be denied that time. At the end of the week, Patrick would leave for Pennsylvania.

Distracted, she meekly followed Caroline from the dining room to the drawing room when the men retired to the library for brandy and private conversation. Distraught, she rumbled with her embroidery until, after sticking her finger for the third time, she excused herself with a plea of being tired from the day’s outing, and retired for the night.

Lettie assisted her in the nightly ritual of making ready for bed, but the moment Lettie quietly closed the bedroom door, Alycia jumped out of bed and began to pace the room in nervous agitation.

Patrick was leaving to rejoin his command at the Brandywine. The same Patrick who had looked at her in the hall with desire firing his eyes. The same Patrick who had flirted with her discreetly over the dinner table. The same Patrick who looked exactly like Sean. That same Patrick was headed into battle!

Alycia knew the outcome of the battle at the Brandywine, knew that on September 11, Washington would lose not only the battle but seven hundred men as well. She couldn’t let Patrick go! She had to stop him! Alycia ran to the door, then stopped as her fingers curled around the knob.

Did she dare? Alycia asked herself, raking her intelligence and her conscience. Because she knew the future, did she have the right to attempt to alter the natural course of events?
Could
she alter the natural course of events?

He is only one man, Alycia told herself. How could altering the course of one man’s life upset the course of history? The answers to her silent cry came in rapid succession.

Washington.

Jefferson.

Lincoln.

Would the course of history have been upset if the actions of any one of those men had been altered?

Alycia’s hand fell limply from the doorknob. Shoulders drooping, she resumed pacing the floor. There was nothing she could do, and she knew it. Patrick would leave at the end of the week, and if he in any way indicated that he wished it, she would wait for him to return. The course of history could not be altered. Alycia had finally accepted that what did happen would happen.

It was a sultry night, and by the time Alycia had walked herself into a state of near exhaustion, her nightgown clung to her perspiration-damp body. Beyond the window at the foot of the terraces, the river beckoned. It was late. The house had been quiet for hours. Alycia didn’t hesitate. After tugging the gown from her heated skin, she wrapped herself in the folds of the robe-like garment called a banian, which was worn by both men and women. Silent as a wraith, she slipped out of the house. Though the night was black, the sky was clear. Myriad stars added their glow to the silver swath of moonlight illuminating the broad pebbled path that led from the house to the river.

Eager to feel the cool water caress her skin, Alycia was slipping the robe from her shoulders as she approached the bank. Tossing the garment aside, she ran into the water, careless of her artfully constructed coiffure. Her head burned and itched from having her hair tugged and pulled into the elaborate style, and she raked her fingers through her hair, scattering pins and the horsehair rolls Lettie had used to create the fashionable look. When her hair was at last free, she plunged headfirst into the water and scrubbed her scalp and hair of a week’s worth of accumulated sweat and dust.

Feeling much better, physically if not emotionally, Alycia walked from the water, arms raised as she combed her fingers through her hair. The night air felt wonderful and not in the least cool. Yet a feathering chill trickled down her spine at the low, drawling sound of a man’s voice.

“Beautiful.”

Startled, Alycia froze. Then, as the sound of the voice registered on her shocked mind, she turned slowly toward a large weeping willow tree, and the man leaning indolently against the huge trunk.

“Patrick?”

“Yes.”

Every modest cell in Alycia’s body demanded she scoop up the robe and conceal her nakedness from his eyes. Every female hormone in Alycia’s body urged her to run across the grass separating them and fling herself into his arms. Alycia obeyed neither cell nor hormone. Standing still, she raised her head and faced him with all the pride of a liberated twentieth-century woman. Her phrasing was straight out of the twentieth century, too.

“Do you get your kicks by hiding in the shadows and watching women skinny-dipping?”

“Kicks?” Patrick queried politely.

“Excitement,” Alycia explained.

“Ah, yes. I understand. Very descriptive. Skinny-dipping?”

“Swimming naked,” Alycia replied, hard put not to laugh, even considering the awkwardness of her present situation.

“Umm.” With the low murmur, Patrick pushed himself away from the tree and strolled out of the shadows. He had removed the buckskin jacket, and his white shirt gleamed in the moonlight. As he drew near, Alycia could see that he’d dispensed with his neck cloth. The chill in her spine intensified as her gaze was drawn to where the shirt gaped open at his throat.

“Ah ... Major ... Patrick,” she said unevenly when it appeared his intention was to walk smack into her.

“Yes ... Mistress ... Alice?” Patrick’s tone mocked the nervous quaver in her voice. Less than two feet from her he suddenly paused and, bending quickly, scooped her robe from the ground. “You tempt a man to the edge of endurance,” he said, gently wrapping the garment around her. “I confess, I have thought of little save you since you fainted at my feet.”

“Major—”

“Patrick.”

“Patrick...”

“Yes ... Alice?”

Alycia could barely breathe. He was so close. The masculine scent of him tantalized her senses. His nearness aroused her emotions. Beginning to tremble, she gazed in mute wonder into his eyes. “I... I should not be here with you... like this.”

“Nor I with you.” He stared deep into her eyes. “And yet I cannot help but feel that I belong here, with you, more than I belong anywhere else in this world.”

“Major”—Alycia had to pause to draw in a shallow breath—”Patrick, I...” Her voice failed her.

“I’ve upset you.” Patrick exhaled harshly. “It was not my intention.”

Alycia shook her head. “No, it’s just that you remind me of someone.”

“Is my resemblance to your friend the reason you swooned at the sight of me?” Capturing her hand with his, he drew it to his lips.

The sensations created by his lips brushing her skin were the same as those she’d felt when Sean had performed the same bone-melting action on the day she met him. “Yes,” Alycia answered truthfully.

“I see.” He released her hand abruptly and stepped back.

Alycia suddenly felt cold and bereft. “Patrick, please don’t go,” she whispered when he turned toward the house.

Patrick stopped but kept his back to her. “I thought... I had hoped ...” His voice faded on a sigh.

Confused, Alycia moved to his side. “What had you thought? What had you hoped for?” She touched his arm and felt the muscles contract beneath her fingers.

Patrick’s broad shoulders rippled as he shrugged. “Perhaps I am a fool, but the moment I saw you, I thought I had found the woman I have been waiting for all my life.” Raising his free arm, he covered her hand with his. “And when you ran to greet me when I arrived here, I hoped that you experienced feelings for me.”

“But I did, I do!” Alycia cried, turning her hand to lace her fingers through his. “Patrick, won’t you please look at me?”

“I cannot.” His voice was low and strained with emotion.

“But why?”

Patrick shook his head, as if trying to clear it after receiving a blow. “Because when I look at you I lose all sense of decorum and restraint. I want to pull you into my arms and crush your mouth beneath mine.” His eyes glittered, reflecting the moonlight. “I want to take you to the ground and tuck your body beneath mine.” He brought his hand up to tangle his fingers in her hair. Alycia’s throat arched as he drew her head back to turn her face up to his. “Heed this warning, Alice,” he said harshly as he slowly lowered his head. “I will not stand in any man’s stead. And if I should find you alone like this again, I will take you and make you mine.” His mouth covered hers with his last word.

Patrick’s mouth was hard, the tongue he thrust between her lips was hard, the body he pressed against hers was hard, hard with a demand of possession.

Stunned, Alycia could do nothing but bend to his will for a moment; then her body, her senses, and her emotions ignited, flaming into a need that was all consuming. But it was too late. As she raised her arms to encircle his neck, Patrick grasped her shoulders and put her from him.

His chest rose and fell with the force of each ragged breath. His eyes pierced hers to her very soul. “Think on this, Alice,” he said tightly. Releasing her, he again stepped back. “If you want another, run from me now, for if you stay I will make you mine.”