Chapter 18
Erva stretched and felt the tingly sensations of last night bounce through her body. She missed Will. Her breasts ached to be touched, and the little party between her legs was hard to ignore. Opening her eyes, she knew exactly where she was, and when, but most importantly who wasn’t with her. She felt overwhelmingly lonely without Will. God, she’d freaked out pretty good last night. Embarrassed, she kept her eyes on the crown-molded ceiling, thinking.
It had felt so good to be with Will. So easy. So right. He’d been eager and gentle and—immediately after, she wondered if he had been experienced as a rake would be. But during, while he’d kissed her and explored her body, he’d seemed...somehow innocent. When he’d asked if she liked it when he’d bitten her, he’d appeared timid. But perhaps that was his MO, the seemingly kind and innocent widower.
She sighed. Either he was the world’s best actor, or Will wasn’t an act at all.
She was fairly certain the answer lay with the latter.
Which meant she’d freaked out last night because of her insecurities.
That was a definite pattern in her life, letting her insecurities get the better of her.
It wasn’t right to teach Dr. Peabody’s classes. It wasn’t right to do her errands. And it wasn’t right that Dr. Peabody wouldn’t sign off on her dissertation to be handed to the academic board for consideration. Erva’s supervisor kept saying how she didn’t think Erva had done enough research, written it well enough, and other lame excuses.
At first Erva had considered the excuses as critiques, and had gone back and rewritten much of her dissertation, and had done more research. All the while her instincts had been firing off warnings that Dr. Peabody was using her. Ben had agreed when Erva had finally told him how long Dr. Peabody had been sitting on her dissertation. He’d held her in a tight bear hug then said, “Honey, for me, but namely for yourself, bag the bitch. She’s holding you back from being the wild, punk rock star you really are.”
Erva knew at this point in her life it was herself that was holding back. All along she could have fired Dr. Peabody. But she hadn’t listened to her instincts, had been too afraid to rock the boat. Too afraid...that reminded her of how she’d run from Will last night. Oh God, he might think she had run because she’d felt forced to—well, do what Will had done to her. And that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’d been excited to have sex with him, although she had no clue how their relationship would work or if it held a minute chance of survival. Still, she’d wanted to make love to him, have him close, feel him inside her.
But she’d run because she’d been afraid at how easy it had been, how good it had felt, how her heart wanted him close every minute of the day from there on out.
She’s holding you back from being the wild, punk rock star you really are, Ben’s sage words came back to echo through Erva’s mind, finally ringing impetus through her body.
She sat up with a start, with purpose. She wouldn't let anyone, not even herself, hold her back any more. This was her life and it was time she started living it. She would make love to Will, then, oh hell, she’d figure it out from there. Clio had said something about this being a glimpse, but with Will she was the happiest she’d ever been. She could save his life. Then...well, who knew what would happen. But she would not let Will die.
Glancing around, she finally noticed a small piece of parchment with black scrawl she knew intimately. Will’s handwriting! She almost squealed as she picked up the note, but then saw her iPhone under the letter. Panic rippled through her chest. Will had to have seen it. What had he thought of her smart phone?
His note indicated he’d gone to his troops. Shit! Shit, shit, he’d gone to his men. She had to convince him to retire from the army. He was going to die in just a couple days now. But she could stop that. She had to stop it. Damn it, why the hell was he here in the first place? He didn’t seem to believe in any part of this war, except he seemed to side with his enemy, the Americans. So why was he fighting?
She scurried to hide her super smart phone, then frantically set about to see Will and get some answers. But more than that, it was time to live her life, the life she may never have dreamed of, yet was better than anything she could have ever fantasized.
However, dressing herself was not easy. After she’d cleaned up in the water basin, getting her corset on had been almost stress-free. Except she’d forgotten to put on her stockings, and bending over, trying to pull up the flimsy silk things was impossible, she quickly found out. Oh well, so much for stockings today. By the time she finished pinning her dress in place she was close to tears, and a small rivulet of sweat fell beside her hairline.
She finally relented to ringing her service bell, feeling idiotic that she needed help getting dressed. Instead of the faint knock that Erva had gotten to know as Mrs. Jacobs’s, a louder, rougher rap came from her door. Erva opened it, hoping that Will had come back to surprise her. But standing in the hallway was Paul.
“My lady, may I offer my assistance?”
She blinked, unsure how to ask Will’s man of business to assist her so her seams didn’t gape.
He gave her a small smile. “You were probably awaiting Mrs. Jacobs, but she is out of the house. And I’m sorry to report the other maids are away too.”
“Oh?”
“The lord hired the maids temporarily for cleaning the third floor. But he did say something about wanting to keep them for you.”
“Oh?” Erva repeated, wishing she could think of something else to say. She tried to think fast. “Is Mrs. Jacobs all right?”
Paul’s eyes widened for just a moment, then he bowed his head slightly. “Actually, her daughter is not well.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
Again, Paul’s eyes grew just a tad, but he recovered quickly. “I know not, my lady. But I’m sure Mrs. Jacobs will be greatly honored you asked.”
Erva wanted to roll her eyes. Not that Paul was being anything other than polite, but she had started to hate the very noticeable class differences in the eighteenth century. Thank God she hadn’t run into any slaves yet, because she’d probably try to create her own underground railroad. It was one thing to have an academic arm’s distance from things, as well as the two hundred plus years from the eighteenth century, but it was quite another to live through the times. She knew that there were slave protesters, especially here in America now, Thomas Paine a prime example. But it nauseated her to think that there might be something she could do about the intolerable injustice of slavery and she wasn’t doing it.
Even if there were something supposedly wrong about changing history, she couldn’t help but think that there was so much she could do if she stayed.
She swallowed and summoned courage. “I’d like to see Will, General Hill, as soon as possible, please, and...I’m not sure I dressed myself appropriately,” she added quietly and felt hot flames paint her cheeks.
Yet again Paul’s eyes widened as he glanced down her body. Not in a leering kind of way, but inspecting for himself.
“I’ve had more experience taking a woman out of a dress, than in,” he said rather quietly himself, then glanced back up at Erva, shock apparent. “Forgive me, my lady. I forget myself—”
Erva just laughed as she patted one of his muscular shoulders. “It’s all right, you ladies’ man.”
He shook his head. “No—”
“Please.” Erva couldn’t quite stop giggling, especially when she saw Paul was blushing. “It’s all right.”
Paul huffed and finally cracked a grin. “Again, my lady, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Your experience being what it is, I still need help making sure I’m not about to explode from my dress.”
“I could call the neighbor’s maid for assistance.”
Erva lifted her arm high. “Just check this seam. I think I might need another pin or to be sewn in.”
Paul squatted slightly, suddenly turning serious.
He straightened while he shook his head. “’Tisn’t good.”
Erva grimaced. “I knew it.”
“But I might have a remedy.”