The doctor and nurses—her jailors—were gone. And she’d go mad if she sat willingly in this place that had been her prison!
She leapt from the bed and slipped on the thin robe that matched her pretty shift of pale green. There were downy slippers to match, but she pushed them aside with her foot. She didn’t want anything coming between herself and the world. She wanted to feel the cold floor, run her hands along those magically smooth walls, touch the cool window glass.
There was a fountain at the back of the garden and she intended to discover how the water was forced out in patterns. Of course, in the darkness, she might only learn how cold the water was, but it was worth a try.
And somewhere in this magical place was a kitchen…
She was giddy as a child when she reached for the front doors, but the deep murmur of men’s voices reminded her that Wickham had guards watching the place. He claimed he’d removed the house out of Time, whatever that meant, but that he wasn’t the sort to take chances. And though she felt wickedly unbridled at the moment, she was in no mood to be questioned by strangers.
The fountain would have to wait.
She veered down the first corridor she came to and scurried silently from door to door, peeking into rooms. When her hand touched the first on the left, she knew without looking that Bella was sleeping inside and moved on. Six bedrooms along that wing. Five of them empty.
She found a room with odd contraptions inside, the uses of which she could not determine until she accidentally pressed a hand to a white and black surface that abruptly fell away beneath the weight and the hulking box emitted a dissonant music!
No musician in sight—no one but her—and she was able to create such sound!
But she backed away from it lest she wake the entire household with her curiosity. She cautiously made her way back to the door, careful not to touch anything else, and promised to return when the sun was up.
At the end of the next corridor were a pair of doors that intrigued her. While she rested her hand on one, she heard the murmur of voices within. James and Phoebe were clearly having a conversation they never intended for her to overhear, and she hurried away. As she headed back toward the center of the house, she paused to press her hand against the last few doors, trying to guess who slept inside.
And it was then she stopped lying to herself. She wasn’t interested in water fountains or kitchens. Hadn’t sought adventure in the hallways. She hadn’t left her slippers behind out of a need to feel the free world beneath her feet. She’d wanted stealth. She’d wanted to come here, uninterrupted. She wanted Flanders.
Those honeysuckled tendrils in her veins reached for the door before her and she turned the handle and stepped inside without fearing what she’d find. She’d known he would be awake. They hadn’t used the link between their minds since Bella had revealed her ability to hear them. But she’d sensed a door standing open. Perhaps that was why she hadn’t been able to sleep…
She whispered into the darkness. “Flanders?”
He was beside her in a heartbeat, long before her eyes could adjust. His answer was to lift her hand and press it against his bare chest.
Yes! This was the connection she’d wanted. Not the touch of the floor, but the touch of his skin. The sound of his breath, the tase of his lips—which he gave her next.
She tried to explain herself over and over again, but each time he interrupted her, distracted her, shook his head and kissed her again. And the only words he uttered—finally—were, “Mine. All mine.”
* * *
At dinneron the tenth day, James cleared his throat and announced, "We have a surprise for ye. Phoebe and I thought ye might enjoy somethingdifferenttonight."
"Different how?" Flanders knew to be wary of James's "surprises."
"Ye'll see. I know the book will be much better, but I think ye'll appreciate seeing the characters fromLes Misérablesin a different light."
After the meal, he led them through the house to a large room Flanders hadn't seen before. Hulking settles with massive cushions provided seating for all, but they each faced the same wall with a large white rectangle in the center.
Brigid was amused. "What is it?"
"It's called a screen," Phoebe explained. "We're going to watch a story on it."
"Watch?" Bella asked. "Like players?"
"Something like that," James said, fiddling with a small black object in his hand. "Just sit and enjoy. Don't worry about how it works—we can explain all that later."
Flanders settled beside Brigid with Bella on her far side. Phoebe dimmed the lights with a touch to the wall, and suddenly the white square blazed with light and color.
Flanders jumped, his hand instinctively reaching for Brigid's. "More sorcery?"
"No sorcery," Phoebe assured him. "Just technology. I promise there are no little people trapped in the wall. Just watch. These are just moving pictures."
There, in the dim light, he squeezed Brigid’s hand firmly. It was just a little reminder that she was and always would be his. He was still hoping that the plans of Joan Bloody Arc of Love would help him satisfy Bella, but there was nothing more standing between him and his lady love now.
