Trapped in Time Read online

  “Thank you for the use of your smelling salts, Mrs. Torrington,” a deep, familiar voice said. “But I do believe she is coming round now.”

  “Of course, Dr. Vii,” a feminine voice replied. “I’ll leave her to your expert care then.” There was a tapping sound, as of someone retreating and then she heard something else.

  “Caroline?” the deep, familiar voice said in her ear. “Caroline, are you well?”

  “Please,” she whispered feebly. “Please, can’t…can’t breathe.”

  There was a low curse and the voice said, “Laced too tightly, I’ll be bound. Come, let’s get you someplace with some privacy.”

  The voice pronounced it “privicy” with a short i sound and Caroline thought dimly that was how the actors and actresses in all the BBC dramas pronounced it—with a proper British accent.

  But now you’re living in a BBC drama, whispered a little voice in her head. Bet you thought that would be fun, didn’t you? You had no idea how much trouble it would be to do something as simple as just getting a deep breath.

  Then she was being carried through a less populous area of the vast hall. Then up a flight of stairs.

  Plain stairs—they must be the back stairs—servants’ stairs, she thought haphazardly. None of the family or the guests of quality will bother coming up this way.

  Apparently that was the intention because very soon she was being carried into a room and heard a door shut behind them. Then someone lay her gently on a giving surface—a bed, she realized.

  “What—?” she began but then the same deep voice—Richard’s voice—said,

  “Now then—let’s get you out of this damned dress and corset for a moment so your lungs can expand properly.”

  Somewhere inside, Caroline was pretty certain that letting someone—even the man who was supposed to be her husband—remove her dress at a party was probably a pretty bad idea. If anyone found out, her reputation would probably be shot all to the Seven Hells, as the Kindred liked to say.

  But just at that moment, she didn’t give a damn about her reputation. Being horribly nervous all evening, then trying to sing in front of people while her anxiety was at an all-time high, and lastly the vigorous, giddy dance in the over -heated, over-crowded ball room while wearing the tight corset and heavy dress and hoopskirts had all taken their toll and she felt like she couldn’t catch her breath no matter how hard she tried. At the moment, she just wanted desperately to breathe.

  “Yes,” she whispered faintly. “Yes, please, Richard—take it…take it off.”

  “I shall. Hold still half a moment—you’ve a thousand ribbons and buttons and laces on this damn thing…”

  She felt him working steadily on the row of small cut crystal buttons that ran down the front of the ball gown and then, when he had the gown open, he began tugging at her corset. But apparently the dress and hoop skirts were getting in his way.

  “There’s no help for it, Caroline—the dress and cage must come all the way off,” he said in her ear.

  “Yes, please.” The idea of getting out of the heavy dress and hoopskirts was immensely appealing. Caroline tried to help him, lifting her hips as he untied and unfastened and finally stripped away the dress, crinoline, hoop skirts and all. He let them fall to the floor beside the bed and then turned his attention to the corset once more.

  “Damn but you’re fastened in tightly,” he growled as he fought with the formidable garment with its whalebone stays. “How many times have I told your mother about the dangers of tight-lacing? It restricts the breathing to a dangerous degree and can even cause derangement of internal organs.”

  As far as Caroline was concerned, he was absolutely right. There was no way being this constricted could be good for her insides. It felt like her liver was being shoved up into her lungs and her stomach was being pushed down into her abdominal cavity.

  At last, to her relief, Richard managed to unhook the front of the corset. He yanked it open, tearing her chemise at the same time, but Caroline didn’t care. All she knew was that for the first time in what felt like hours, she was able to fully expand her lungs. Finally get as much oxygen as her starved body demanded.

  “Oh thank you,” she gasped, panting, taking in deep gulps of air. “I feel so much better now!”

  “You may not thank me later,” Richard remarked. “It’s going to be a damned nuisance getting that lot back on you. But we’ll do our best.”

  “I don’t care about any of that,” Caroline told him. “I’ve been so miserable ever since Mary Ann laced me up.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just not used to wearing a corset—let along singing and dancing in one.”

  Richard gave her a strange look, which she was able to see by the moonlight seeping in through the half-closed curtains.

  “But you’ve been wearing a corset since you came out at the age of fourteen,” he remarked. “Have you not?”

  “Oh, uh, yes, I suppose I have.” Caroline could have kicked herself. For a moment she’d forgotten she was supposed to be the other Caroline instead of herself. “I just meant…I…I don’t know what I meant,” she confessed. “I’m sorry—thank you for rescuing me.”

  “It’s quite all right.” His voice was unexpectedly gentle. “That’s twice I’ve saved you tonight. You really were bungling that song most dreadfully,” he remarked.

  “I know,” Caroline admitted. “It’s just been so long since I played anything,—I mean it felt like so long since I’d played—that it was almost as though I’d forgotten how. And there was no way I could sing with this horrible corset choking the life out of me.”

  She looked down at the foundation garment in question, which was now open all the way down the front, and noticed with a shock that her breasts were plainly visible through the ripped chemise.

  “Oh my!” Quickly, she covered herself, drawing the torn white linen around her exposed breasts as well as she could.

  Richard frowned. “Earlier tonight when I examined you, you were not so shy. You let me see your naked flesh and even begged me to touch you. Do you regret our earlier intimacy?”

  “I…no. I…I don’t think so,” Caroline whispered.

  Her heart had begun pounding and, now that she could breathe, she again noticed his dark, spicy scent. What was that? Was it some kind of cologne he wore? Whatever it was, it made her want to get close to him—much closer than was probably proper in this world.

  “Why?” she asked him. “Should I regret it? Letting you see me? Letting you…touch me? I mean, you are my husband, right?”

  He frowned. “I am, but in name only since you refused to honor the rules of our Claiming contract and I refused to force you.”

  “Rules of the Claiming contract?” Caroline looked at him uncertainly. “What rules are those?”

  He shook his head. “Is your memory still uncertain, then? I suppose it must be the lightning strike. And yet, it seems to have affected not only your memory but your personality as well. You seem so…different since our walk in the park today.”

  “I am different,” Caroline said earnestly. “Er, that is, I feel different. I feel like a whole different person.”

  “You act like one as well,” he said frankly. “I keep wondering when you will return to normal and begin pushing me away again.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to push you away anymore,” Caroline said boldly, looking up at him.

  They were both lying half-reclined on the bed and facing each other. She was propped on her left elbow and Richard was propped on his right as they looked at each other’s faces in the dim room.

  Her heart was beating a quick rhythm in her chest and she was very aware that the torn sides of her chemise had opened again, showing her bare breasts. But this time she didn’t cover up—she wanted Richard to see her—wanted him to touch her again. She wanted it desperately.

  “I don’t want you to push me away, either.” His blue eyes were intense as he cupped her cheek and drew her to him for a slow, gentle kiss.