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

back garden. He didn't touch her, didn't speak, didn't force her down any path. He merely walked where she did with his head bowed.

"Thomas," she said quietly, "I cannot repay you for the clothes. Or for anything else."

"I wish," he said wearily, "that you would stop trying." He looked at her, and there was no smile on his face. "Iolanthe, I did what I did because I loved you. I knew the risks. You didn't want me to go back in time, but I did it anyway, and that's my price to pay. I'm not asking you to love me, and I think I'm sorry I ever suggested that you once did." He paused, looking as if he'd already said too much. Then he sighed. "I want you to be happy."

She nodded, feeling altogether wretched.

"We'll leave tomorrow morning, just as we planned."

She didn't argue.

He looked as if he planned to say something else, then shook his head.

"It's late," he said quietly. "We'll make an early start."

"Aye."

She wanted to go into his arms, bury herself in his embrace, and never leave it. She also wanted to cease feeling indebted to him for all he'd done for her. There was surely no means for her to repay him. Perhaps he had it aright and she should cease trying.

Home. It called her like a beacon. She felt almost certain that 'twas there she would find her answers.

She took a deep breath. "Thank you, Thomas."

"It's my pleasure, Iolanthe."

 

 

It took two days to reach her home. Thomas had driven like a man who wasn't in a hurry. She hadn't protested, for the speed of the automobile was still unsettling to her. The other reason she hadn't urged him to greater haste was that the slow travel gave her ample time to study the man beside her. She looked at his legs encased in those well-worn jeans and wondered how many miles he'd walked and ridden to chase after her and the English-man who would have murdered her. His arms were hidden by a shirt the same color as his jeans, but she'd watched those arms strain under poor cloth and seen the muscles there. She had to admit to having watched him in Artane's lists a time or two. He was not the most skilled, but he was far from the least. Had he learned swordplay simply for her? She suspected that if he'd had enough time, he could have been the equal of any one of her kin.

She looked next at his hands that rested on the wheel of the car. They were strong hands, scarred here and there from she knew not what. How did he earn his bread in this Future of his? What did he do for pleasure? He'd told her that 'twas a goodly part of his own labor that had rebuilt the tower of Thorpewold. Was he a mason, then? How would those hands look tending a child?

Which made her realize, with a start, mat she didn't know if he had a wife or not.

Then it occurred to her that he would hardly have been rushing off to rescue her if he'd been wed.

It was his face, though, that she spent most of her time studying. It had been, over the past two days, a rather serious face. To distract him, she had asked him, far into the morning of their first day of travel north, to tell her of his life.

It had eased the tension in his shoulders. And his tales of enterprise had been interesting, as were his boasts of mountains climbed. It was those stories she had liked the best, for she had seen the passion in his face and heard it in his voice.

Somewhere long past Edinburgh, long past Inverness, she had begun to realize how it was a woman could easily fall in love with the man.

And then she had realized, to her astonishment, that for her, such a thing might have begun long before that moment.

"We're close," he said, interrupting her musings.

She blinked, then looked around, realizing that he spoke the truth. Though she knew the countryside around her home, she could see how things had changed. Trees had grown up and others had obviously been hewn down. A road cut through land that had seen nothing but cattle and horses in her time.

She wiped her hands on her jeans, finding herself unaccountably nervous.

"Will I be disturbing them, do you think?" she asked.

He looked at her with such frank astonishment that she almost smiled.

"Well, no," he said. "They're expecting us. I called them last night to let them know we're coming." He smiled faintly. "They're excited to see you, Iolanthe."

She nodded and scrubbed her hands some more on her legs. She looked out the window, but that didn't soothe her. The closer she came to her destination, the more nervous she became.

"Thomas," she managed. "I don't know ... what if—"

"Io, it's your family. They love you."

"They don't know me!"

He was silent. She supposed it could have been because he was pulling through the gates to her family home. Perhaps he'd suddenly found himself without a voice. And then it occurred to her just why he might be avoiding her question.

"Did I... was I here?"

He turned off the car, put both hands on the wheel, then looked at her.

"I think," he said slowly, "that you shouldn't worry about the past. Let things unfold as they will. Jamie is your grandfather's grandfather. If anyone should understand the shock of a different century, it's him. He'll be a great help to you. As for the other, I'm not going to say any more. Ask Jamie if you really want the answer." He smiled, and that took away the sting of his words. "He'll be able to tell you things I can't."

She nodded, then watched him get out of the car. She fumbled at her side, then found that the door was opened for her. Thomas stood back and waited for her to get out.

"Our things?" she