The Will of Time Read online

  "So, Brant, are you keeping your fair wife a prisoner? Perhaps a prisoner of love?"

  "Leah does as she likes, I assure you," Brant said, now sporting an unpleasant smile.

  "Anything she likes?" Charles went on, oblivious of the building tension. "Hmm, that could prove interesting."

  The serving man came around to freshen their wine glasses, and Leia was relieved. Was Charles flirting with her? What purpose could that serve with her husband directly across the table? Leia drank from her glass, the crisp wine biting as it went down in a rush.

  "Would you give me the honor of a dance after dinner, Mrs. Douglas?" Charles was swirling his wine around in its glass, staring into it with a casual air.

  Leia put down her fork watching Brant's facial muscles tense at this new request. "I don't know if that would be appropriate, Charles, but thank you for asking. Perhaps MaryKatherine would care to dance. She's very graceful, you know, and she had so looked forward to meeting you."

  "Well, I just thought that since your husband is not, shall we say, capable, at this time, I'd step in. Just for a dance or two," Charles went on.

  Brant's glass crashed to the table. "Would you care to step outside, sir, to contemplate just how capable I am?"

  Leia was speechless at Charles' thoughtless remarks. Having not socialized in this century, she had assumed everyone would be so much more refined. This man had deliberately provoked another guest, and Brant's temper was rising. Mortified, Leia looked around the table. Every person at the long table was watching the scenario, openly curious and dismayed.

  After a few moments of humiliating silence, the sounds of dinner resumed. Having lost her appetite, Leia pushed her plate aside and her eyes met MaryKatherine's. The gray doves of her cousin's eyes were confused and a bit sad.

  "I'm sorry." Leia mouthed the words to her friend, then left the table. She needed air, and time to sort out what had happened. Mentally, she ran over the introductions and the dinner seating, trying to see if she had done anything to encourage young Charles Bauer.

  She made her way to the back patio, relieved that a cool breeze had picked up to wipe away some of the humidity. With a sigh, she settled on a bench where she could see the half-moon rising. Soft strains of violin music filtered out from the house, and Leia assumed that happy couples were dancing.

  "You never answered my question," a voice taunted from behind her.

  "Charles, I think I did. Please, do me a favor, go ask MaryKatherine to dance."

  He moved closer, resting his hand on the back of the bench. "Just one dance, Leah. Let me hold you for one dance, and then I'll leave you alone."

  "I think you'll leave her alone now." Brant's voice was deep and steady.

  Leia sighed in relief, wondering what had taken him so long to follow her. She moved away from the bench and went to stand beside her husband, grateful for his height and muscular physique, even with the crude cane.

  Brant slipped his free arm about her waist, pulling her close while staring down Charles.

  "Sorry, good man," Charles began. "I just wanted a dance," he said, and turned away.

  Leia watched his blonde head as he went back to the house. "Thank you for yet another rescue."

  "Why did you come out here alone?" He didn't release her, but tilted his head so he could see her eyes.

  "Just to get away from him. Honestly, Brant, I don't think I caused any of this," Leia said, wrapping both of her arms around her husband's neck. Looking behind him, she saw the French doors push open and dancers spilling out onto the porch.

  "Look at me, Leia," he whispered, locking her eyes and holding them as laughing couples spun around them.

  "Always," she said, willing him to kiss her. But he just looked at her, looked into her. The eyes are windows to the soul, she thought, I hope he can see mine. She wasn't sure how long they stood there, like patio statues, eyes locked, but she couldn't break away from his intense gaze.

  The guests prepared to leave, thanking the Bauers repeatedly in the great foyer. Almost like a reverse receiving line, Leia watch in amusement as the Bauers moved from person to person.

  "It was very nice to meet you," the young mother said to Leia, gathering up her toddler.

  "Are you leaving now?" Leia asked, extending her hand.

  "No, actually, we're spending the night. Thomas is overly tired. He gets that way since they had to take his leg, and the Bauers were kind enough to offer. He's over with Mrs. Bauer now, arranging to send a message to my family."

  "A message?"

  "Yes, I don't want them to worry when we don't arrive home promptly. Don't you think that's the polite thing to do?" She frowned, small wrinkles lining her young face.

  "Oh yes, I do," Leia agreed, and then turned to look at Brant.

  He looked irritated, at her first glance, but a change softened his face within seconds. He came to stand closer behind Leia, and leaned to whisper in her ear.

  "I'm sorry," he said, then turned her to face him. "You were right about the message." He bent his head over hers and claimed her mouth in a full, no-holds-barred kiss. She felt him take his cane in both hands, behind her back, to pull her even closer. Her insides melted when his body pressed upon hers at every point possible, his heat steaming through their layers of clothing.

  Leia tried to pull away. She knew everyone would be gawking at their indecent display. "Brant..."

  Without words, he told her he didn't care who watched, and that he intended to show them all that she belonged to him.

  Brant held Leia tight against him, feeling her snuggle her head against his chest. He knew the swaying of the carriage had rocked her nearly to sleep. Martha and MaryKatherine were in their own little world, whispering to each other on the far side of the carriage. Brant knew they weren't pleased with the Douglas family this evening.

  Patrick, however, had been amused by the events. Just after tucking the women into the carriage, he had leaned to Brant and whispered his commentary: "I thought I insisted you two get married so we could avoid these public displays." And then he had slapped Brant on the back lightly, chuckling softly under his breath.

  The pounding of hammer to wood drew Leia's attention away from the sewing materials sprawled across her lap. With a mumbled excuse to Martha and MaryKatherine, Leia escaped. She reminded herself that she couldn't sew a straight stitch in eighth grade Home-Ec, so she shouldn't get frustrated by the same problem now.

  Poking her head around the corner of the alcove, she found Brant working on some type of construction. He sat on a low stool, his healing leg out to one side as he stretched over his project.

  "What's that?" Leia asked, sitting on the floor beside him. Her hoop rose around her like a mushroom cloud, so she struggled back to her feet. So much for sitting Indian style in 1863, she thought, smiling at her own lack of grace.

  "Ladies don't sit like that in long skirts," Brant said, extending a hand to help her. Still strong despite his recovery time in bed, she was up righted instantly. "At least, they don't try it in front of anyone else."

  "Now you tell me." Leia smoothed the fabric over her hoop frame and brushed off her butt. "Anyway, what are you making?"

  "It was going to be a surprise, but I guess that's hard to achieve in close quarters. It's a cabinet, for your bottles and glasses. A wedding present, if a little late."

  Leia sucked in her breath. "Oh Brant, that is so sweet. I didn't know you could make furniture." She loved all the antique pieces she saw appraising houses, occasionally thinking the furniture was worth more than the house.

  "I don't, really. Just basic types. Look at that chair," he said, indicating an ornately carved walnut corner chair. It had two backs, and the point of the seat fit neatly into the corner.

  "It's gorgeous. Did you---?"

  "No, my father made that for Martha, years ago."

  "Wow, I'm impressed."

  "It's a nice piece, a replica of one from the 1700's. He made my mother a china cabinet as a wedding gift
. He spent a year carving it, perfecting it," Brant said, shaking his head.

  "What happened to it?" She had to ask, even if she suspected the answer.

  "Margaret and Cameron have it." He spoke quietly, continuing to fit the wood together as he spoke.

  She watched him work with the dark wood, pulling up an upholstered wing chair. "This is going to be beautiful. I hope I can get it home someday."

  He stopped working then, looking at her. "I hadn't thought of that, since I consider you as being home now. Where ever home is for us, we'll take it there. Or I'll build you a new one."

  She reached over and put her hand on top of his. "As long as you and I are there, it'll be home, no matter what things we possess."

  He nodded, accepting her answer. "I cut these pieces in the barn. Would you hold the end of this board while I fit them closer? There'll be a shelf for glasses and goblets. And one for bottles. The bottom section will be deeper, for vases or jars or what ever you'd like."

  "And I didn't get you anything."

  "Oh yes, you did." He filed a rough edge with a flat, beveled piece of metal.

  Leia smelled the wood as he shaved it. "What did I give you as a wedding present?"

  The look, or leer, he turned to her answered her question.

  She laughed. "I don't mean that. I mean something concrete, tangible. Something you can point to and say...my wife did that for me."

  "Oh, well, that's different." He sat his tools aside and stroked his chin. The light beard he'd started gave him an older, wiser look. "What if I say that my wife gave me back hope for a future? A future with the possibility of a family. And all without even knowing for certain if we'd have our own home. I'd say that was a gift."

  She stood and circled Brant, admiring the work he'd done so far. "I do have one concern," she said, stopping in front of the little corner chair, touching its smoothly polished arms.

  He spun halfway on his stool. "Yes?"

  "Did you ever build something for Margaret?" Leia studied his cheek bones, defined so clearly above the whiskers.

  His facial muscles relaxed as he released a beat of laughter. "Not a single thing."

  There was a time, he thought, when he would have strived to build Margaret mansions and gazebos, furniture and anything else she wanted.

  He'd been younger then, however, thought any woman he loved would be loyal. Of course, he'd also thought his country was at peace.

  Brant started as a splinter pricked his hand. He could pick it out later. Now, he wanted to show Leia how much she meant to him, and a small gift was a beginning. The fact that she wanted to accept it, was eager for something from his heart, showed she didn't mind that they had no place to put it. Could he count on her to wait for a home of their own?

  Chapter 13

  "These smell heavenly," Leia said, flipping flat cakes as they sizzled in the cast-iron pan. They were wafer-thin disks made with wheat, eggs and milk and absolutely lacking in preservatives.

  She hummed to herself, her mood far better than she would have expected, considering the circumstances. Since the night of the Bauers' dinner, Leia had spent each evening with Brant. He talked with her now in a soft version of his deep voice, like he had the night they met. He had touched her, with a gentle caress she could still feel on her face and shoulders. She had lain beside him on the bed, stretched out so that her full length touched his. Determined not to damage his slowly healing wound, she had only watched as his arousal became evident. Her own body had grown warm and wet, the anticipation and need to wait adding to her excitement.

  'Miz Leah!" Hettie called, her voice urging Leia to notice the blackening pancakes. She hurriedly flipped them, bringing her full attention back to the kitchen and away from Brant's bedroom.

  A noise from the dining room signaled Leia that someone had come down for breakfast. She dripped a new batch of cakes on the fire while Hettie chopped fruit into mouth-sized pieces.

  "What the..." a man's voice bellowed, trailing off as he took in his surroundings.

  Leia spun at the sound, recognizing the voice she hadn't heard in weeks. It was Jason.

  "Leia?" he asked, his mouth remaining open and his brows knitting together. He looked from Leia to Hettie, then around the room at the antique furnishings.

  "Hello, Jason," Leia said, amused at his confusion. "Long time, no see, huh?"

  "What is this?" he demanded, sweeping his arms, "and where have you been?"

  Leia looked at Hettie, who was staring at Jason, obviously wondering about his khaki shorts and red polo shirt. The maid's eyebrows lifted, and Leia stifled a giggle, imagining what Hettie thought of Jason's long, hairy legs.

  "I've been right here," Leia said, sweeping her own arms in a grand gesture.

  He ran a hand through his hair, as if willing the brain underneath to comprehend.

  "And this," she went on, "is the McGarland kitchen, as it was during the Civil War."

  Jason was shaking his head. "Did you do this yourself? No, Leia, this is going too far. No."

  "Oh, yes it is, Jason. But you're not crazy, I felt the same way when I arrived a few weeks ago."

  Jason's facial muscles twitched, looking as if the fury of a red-devil was emerging.

  Leia enjoyed his reaction, mentally punishing him for taking so long to find her and for the way he'd acted before that. She arranged the flapjacks on a china platter, turning her back on Jason, but sneaking a peek over her shoulder.

  "Are you going to talk to me, Leia?" he asked, his voice calm. He opened the dining room door for Hettie to pass through with two round fruit bowls and a puzzled expression.

  Jason moved closer to Leia. "Well?" She could feel the irritation coming from him in waves.

  "Of course I'll talk to you. But first I'm helping with the family breakfast."

  "What family?"

  "The McGarlands, I told you. Oh, and the Douglases, too."

  Jason snorted. "Whatever. We have to talk. Your birthday's almost here, Leia. We could lose the house. Have you given that any thought while you've been playacting?"

  She turned toward him, forgetting the flapjacks forming in the pan. "Of course I've thought about it. But there's not much I could do from here. Did Sara find my message?" She glanced at the door to the hall as several thumps bounced in from the steps.

  "What message? It doesn't matter. Forget this charade. Leia, do you want to get married? I've secured a license. If you do, we have to get back to where ever soon." He grasped her upper arm. "Last chance, Leia."

  Another sound caused Leia to look toward the door, realizing they weren't alone. Brant had come in from the hall, and was leaning against the oak piesafe. He crossed his arms neatly in front of him, allowing the cane to project into the room.

  "She is married. To me," he said, his voice dripping with casual, nineteenth-century arrogance. He is magnificent, she thought. Rhett Butler couldn't have done it better. He stared at Jason, unwavering. The strength he projected rivaled that of the night he had saved her from the intruder. "And who are you?"

  Leia had never heard that tone in Brant's voice, and she was ashamed to think she liked it. She saw a threat in his gaze, too, which she knew was directed at Jason. The sounds of silverware and coffee cups sifted in from the next room, but the kitchen became deadly quiet as the two men faced each other, neither able to grasp the identity of the other.

  "Okay you two," Leia said, "let's take this out back. It's bad enough Hettie's already seen Jason in these clothes."

  The men silently followed Leia through the centered hallway and out onto the back porch. Brant leaned against the wood railing and Jason, refusing to let the other man have the advantage of height, perched on the railing directly opposite.

  "Jason," Leia began, taking a chair between them, "how did you get here?"

  He cleared his throat to answer. "Well, I got up this morning and went to the kitchen for juice. I heard a noise, which I thought came from the basement. I took a flashlight and went to check it o
ut. Nothing was wrong until I came back upstairs and found you, like this," he said, motioning to indicate her long dress.

  "Are you saying you slept at my house?" She looked at Jason, tilting her head with curiosity.

  "Sara and I have stayed there sometimes, yes, to keep an eye on things."

  "House sitting, huh?" she asked, and watched him swallow. "Have you thrown any wild parties?"

  Obviously embarrassed and unsure if she was kidding, Jason just smiled at Leia. "Sara's really worried about you," he said after another swallow.

  "I'm sure she is," Leia told him, seeing Brant shift his weight. "Although she was pretty unhappy with me before I left, and if I recall correctly, that had something to do with you." She was impressed by Brant's stoic patience.

  He ignored her comment. "Are you really married, Leia?" Jason looked at Brant, folding his arm to mirror the other's movement. "And if you are, is it legal?"

  "Only you would ask that right now, Jason. Brant and I were married a short time ago. It's perfectly legal, as far as I know. What's the date at home? Is it July there, like here?"

  "Yeah...it is...and we're running out of time. Sanders has already set up an auction for August first."

  Leia drew in her breath. "You're kidding! What a snake. He couldn't wait for me to return? The bastard." She glanced at her husband, who remained quiet, barely disguising a smile at her outburst.

  "Don't worry, though," Jason continued. He moved closer to Leia and grasped her wrist. "I'm going to outbid everyone, if I have to. I have a backer."

  The news hung in the air, as heavy as the humidity. Leia couldn't breath, feeling as if her head would explode with anger building in her blood vessels. How dare he! Pressure pumped behind her eyeballs, as if hot air helium was filling them.

  "What," she asked, clipping the edge from each word, "are you talking about, Jason Maxwell?" She shook his moist hand from her wrist.

  "Yes, what?" Brant asked, looking less amused.

  "The auction. I didn't want Leia to lose the property, so I did some homework."