My Heart Stood Still by Lynn Kurland (best book club books of all time .TXT) 📕

"Yet you remember her, don't you?"

"I do indeed."

"Then how do you remember her, if she was never a ghost?"

Ambrose stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I daresay, Thomas my lad, that our grasp of time is very flawed. To my mind, she was a ghost for several hundred years. Just because I now see her in the flesh doesn't change the past."

"But I changed the future."

"Did you?"

Thomas rubbed his hands over his face. "This gives me a headache."

"You created a new future," Ambrose pressed on. "But that doesn't negate the old one. 'Tis only Iolanthe who cannot find herself in two places at once. But she has already walked the path of a ghost. Walking now as a mortal woman doesn't change that."

"Then why can't she remember it?"

Ambrose smiled kindly. "A mortal frame draws something of a veil over the spirit's mind, Thomas. I daresay, were you free of its confines, you would find yourself remembering a number of things you wouldn't believe you'd forgotten. Perhaps when that time comes that she finally and in truth passes over to the other side, she will remember all that has transpired before. In both her lifetimes."

"She probably won't like me any better then than she does now," Thomas said. "Which isn't much, apparently."

"Truly?" Ambrose asked, sounding surprised. "She didn't seem opposed to you."

"She isn't falling into my arms either."

"By the saints," Ambrose said with a laugh, "you complain of another chance to win your lady? It was done once. You can now do it again with fewer mistakes."

"I didn't make that many mistakes the first time."

Ambrose pushed away from the buffet he'd been leaning against. "Give her time, lad. And after she goes to bed, come to me in the sitting chamber. I'll be interested to hear how your adventure went."

Thomas nodded, then looked at Ambrose. "Why do I feel like the hard part is in front of me?"

"Because you lost something you loved," Ambrose said gently, "and the thought of losing it forever grieves you."

"Wouldn't it you?"

"Och, aye," Ambrose said, with feeling. "But at least in your case, there will likely come a day when you'll hold your love in your arms in truth. Wasn't that why you took this risk?"

"Yes."

"Then off with ye, my lad, and soak your head. Perhaps that and a bit of fine supper will restore your wits to you."

Thomas was tempted to ask Ambrose how his own love life was going, but he thought better of it. Whatever was going on between the laird and Mrs. Pruitt was probably better left private.

Thomas wasted no time showering and dressing in things he'd left behind in his room. After two months of kilts, threadbare stolen goods, and fine lordly clothes, he was more than ready for a nice, broken-in pair of 501s.

He left his room only to find Mrs. Pruitt softly closing Iolanthe's door. Thomas looked at her and lifted one eyebrow in question.

"Asleep, the poor lamb," Mrs. Pruitt said, clucking her tongue. "Worn out, and no mistake."

"I can't say that I blame her."

"Dinner's in an hour, me lad," Mrs. Pruitt said, smoothing down her starched apron. "Hie yerself up to the castle if ye like. No doubt thems who're up the way will be wanting to see ye."

Thomas considered. Maybe a quick walk would clear his head. Besides, he wanted to see the place as a ruin. It would put his nightmares to rest.

It took him only a few minutes to jog there. He came to a teetering halt at the sight of a very familiar trio adorning his outer gates.

"What are you guys doing here?" he asked, astonished.

"Visiting the sight of former glories," Constance said, patting her hair into place.

"The society gave us the sack," Nigel said, looking defeated. "We annoyed the Queen."

Gerard only scribbled despondently into his notebook.

"Oh," Thomas said, feeling unaccountably sorry for them. "Well, surely there's some wreck around here that could use some rescuing."

"No business titles," Constance said glumly.

"No business cards," Nigel agreed.

"No business funds," Gerard said succinctly.

Thomas opened his mouth to tell them it was too bad when an idea of simply diabolic proportions popped into his mind. He jammed his hands into his pockets and gave it some more thought, finding that as he turned the idea over in his mind, he simply couldn't find a single fault with it.

Arthur Davidson had in his portfolio a construction division. Thomas distinctly remembered hearing Jake say that Davidson was getting ready to demolish one of the Lower East Side's least appreciated historical landmarks to build himself a trendy little office complex.

A pity all that history should go down into the Dumpster, unprotested, unheckled, unheralded.

"I'll fund you," Thomas said. "If you'll go to the States for a rescue project I have in mind."

The three threw off their gloom and doom like a ratty raincoat.

"Why don't you head back to the inn until we can figure out the particulars," Thomas said pleasantly. "My treat."

"Good show!"

"Well done!"

"Quick, before he changes his mind."

Thomas watched them trot off back down the road and smiled pleasantly to himself. Perhaps there was such a thing as just deserts.

He walked up the way to the castle, but slowed as he did so. The realization of just what had transpired there not two weeks ago was sobering. And miraculous. There were so many things that could have gone wrong. He could have come too late. Indeed, he'd thought he'd come too late. He could have gotten lost. He could have died any number of times.

He approached the gates and found Duncan waiting for him.

"Duncan," he said with a smile, reaching out to clasp his hand. And then it came back to him with full force just what had happened the last time he'd seen Duncan. He let his hand slip down to his side.

"Do you remember?" he asked quietly.

"Och, aye, lad," Duncan said with a small smile.

"But did it... I mean, did you die ..."

"I remember one death."

Thomas blinked. "Then when you first saw me ..."

Duncan smiled again. "Aye, I knew."

"And