"You don't have anything either, Treat," Pierce said softly.
Treat laughed. "Of course I do."
"Your assets are being seized as we stand here by the United States government."
Treat laughed, then narrowed his eyes. "What have you done?"
"Malry works for the government. They're on to you."
"I never liked that bastard," Treat muttered. "You two," he kicked at the guards as they slowly regained their feet. "Go on, get hold of him." He waved the pistol haphazardly at Pierce. "Bumbling idiots." He laughed scornfully, but Isabeau heard the note of desperation. "I'm surrounded by bunglers."
"A true and interesting observation," Pierce remarked idly, ignoring the men now on either side of him. "How did you dare to do it?"
Treat, waving the pistol around, was making her increasingly nervous.
"You've been stealing from the company for years!"
Treat looked at Pierce. "I only took what was my due. I deserved more than that paltry sum you put in my account each month."
Flexing her fingers nervously, Isabeau took a cautious step sideways. She squealed when Treat's hand snaked out and shackled her to his side.
Eyes slitted in amusement, he remarked, "You can't get anything past me. I see it all." He pulled her closer until she felt his breath repulsively sweet in her face.
"You make me sick to my stomach," she snapped.
"Don't turn from me." He scowled at her, his hand tightening punishingly as he pulled her tightly to him. "We both know you didn't turn from him. Honorable Hawk Morgan -- no, wait, let me guess. I'll bet he tossed you in the hay. Just like our father."
Pierce struggled with the two men holding him pinned to the wall.
"Perhaps you and I should spend some time together," he said, too close to her face for her comfort. "If you are very good, perhaps I won't kill you. I'll keep you around once I move to Hawk's Den."
Painfully, his thin fingers dug into her skin.
"Really?" Isabeau said softly, jerking back from him. "Why keep me around? You don't even like girls."
Treat looked stunned, then he shoved her to the floor. As he reached for her again, she lay back and swung her foot in an arc, catching both of his feet and sending him flying back and down. She scrambled backwards, but was unable to move fast enough when he recovered and again lunged at her.
When he grabbed her shoulders Isabeau went wild, using every dirty trick she'd ever been taught. She thrust the heel of her hand full force into his nose.
His fingers spasmed, then released her.
On hands and knees, Isabeau huddled against the foot of the bed, screaming when hands pulled at her again.
"Sweetheart! It's Pierce -- Pierce." He repeated it several times before she stopped struggling and hitting his hands away. Pierce lifted her and helped her sit in a chair, pushing the damp tendrils of hair from her eyes.
Dazed, she looked at Treat moaning on the floor. The two men who had been holding Pierce lay on the other side of the room, both of them out cold. "Did you do that?" she asked.
Treat attempted to rise, but Pierce jerked him to his feet, his face set in murderous rage. Treat suddenly pulled a small pistol from his pocket. Pierce struggled with him, then finally wrestled the weapon from Treat. He pointed it at Treat as the other man sat on the floor.
"No." Isabeau leapt forward. She felt the corded power in Pierce's arm. "Don't. He's not even aware of what's going on. He's drugged up. You don't want to kill him -- it can't be by your hand."
Pierce stepped back with a gesture of disgust. "It was all a waste of time, do you hear me Treat? The whole plan to get rid of Hawk!"
Treat lifted his head. "I'm the rightful heir, I tell you. I was born first that night. The nurse, she switched babies, she switched us."
"You're lying."
"My mother told me. I've got proof."
"There's no proof, because it's a lie."
"The nurse. My mother gained her sworn statement we were switched that night. I'll take it to the magistrate, they'll put me in my rightful place."
"Your mother's a sick woman, Treat," Pierce said in a low voice. "Malry found the nurse who delivered you that night. She said she signed that statement at your mother's coercion. In return, she was set up for life."
"That's a lie."
"Malry talked to the doctor who delivered Hawk Morgan. He never left during the delivery. He saw Hawk born, he saw the unusual birthmark on the sole of his foot. The baby with the birthmark is Catharine and Brendon's son."
"There is no birthmark," Treat said angrily. "I don't believe you. I want to see it. Show me the proof," he demanded.
"I don't have to show you anything. Your ignorance about the birthmark just proved you're not Catharine and Brendon's son."
"She lied to me? How could my mother lie to me? It was all for nothing," Treat muttered brokenly."
Pierce urged Isabeau outside.
Treat followed them. "Hawk --"
"The assassins you hired were bunglers," Pierce said.
"I didn't have much money." Treat lifted his head, eyes filled with pain.
"No, you spent it on opium, and it's killing you," Pierce's voice was tinged with sadness.
"Be quiet, damn you!" Treat cried.
Isabeau looked away from the tears coursing down his cheeks. It was not easy witnessing a man fall into total ruin.
Pierce swung to face him. "The time we were almost killed on the docks, it was your fools bungling once again. I recall how you acted shaken. I could have sworn your reaction was real."
"I was almost killed," Treat whispered brokenly.
"Of course," Pierce muttered. "You were almost killed."
Isabeau stared at Treat's once-handsome face, now a mottled red, showing signs of his neglect and abuse.
"What have you done to my son?" cried a voice. Mrs. Sanderly hurried toward them across the lawn. "Hawk, what have you done?" Outraged, the woman rushed over to Treat.
"Hawk, for old times, you have to help me," Treat said, ignoring his mother.
Pierce looked at Treat in surprise. "Old times? Would those be the old times when you arranged a kidnapping? When you hoped the rightful heir would be killed or lost at sea?"
Treat stepped back. "No."
"That is nonsense," stated Mrs. Sanderly, but it was too late. Isabeau had seen the fear in the woman's face.
"It was you Mrs. Sanderly," Pierce said slowly. "You arranged the kidnapping."
"Don't be ridiculous." Arrogantly, she tipped her chin. "You have no proof of anything."
"Mother?" Treat now looked at his mother.
Pierce reached for Isabeau's hand. "I suggest you both wait for the authorities," he said. "There's nowhere you can hide."
Pierce urged her away from the pair. "Let's go," he said somberly. "It's over." He placed an arm across her shoulders. At the edge of the lawn, though, he actually smiled. "And now it's just beginning for us."
#
Isabeau felt strangely weak and drained and was glad Pierce held onto her as they walked along a graveled path.
"Are you okay," he asked in concern.
She nodded. "Just glad it's over."
Pierce dropped a kiss on her mouth. "I know. All this time, all these years, it was first Mrs. Sanderly, and then Treat. And neither one of them knew about the other."
"Maybe. I would tend to think she knew he was up to something."
"Well, it's done. Malry's notified the authorities in the next town by now." Pierce looked down at her and had the audacity to grin. "I've said it before, I don't ever want to go toe to toe with you in a fight."
She laughed, but it was more from the immense relief of knowing they were both safe.
They took horses from Treat's stable and rode quickly to Hawk's Den. It was when they entered the stable block that Isabeau realized something of major importance was causing a commotion.
James came running toward them as they reached the stable, completely out of breath. "Mr.
Hawk -- it's the little cottage in the woods -- someone's set a torch to it."
They turned in the direction from which they had come, for the first time seeing the black smoke topped by scarlet flames leaping over the trees. Smoke billowed, obscuring the mountains, until the wind pulled it away, towards the river.
"He's gone," Pierce said gruffly.
"You knew he'd try something?"
"I knew," he admitted heavily. "Shame and guilt are heavy burdens. He lived in this town all his life. He was ruined."
"But surely they'd have sent him away or something?"
"That's not up to me. The authorities will be involved. Hawk will take it from here."
Isabeau frowned. "You sound as if it's a done deal, as if you know he's coming back."
"I do know, Isabeau." He looked down at her, regret darkening his eyes. "I'm sorry I kept that from you, but at the time I felt it was for your own safety."
"I was so worried he was displaced," she said, "just like we were. I was worried Amelia would arrive expecting to marry you instead of him."
"I did what I thought was best," he said. "It wasn't my secret to tell."
"Malry."
Isabeau needed time to think, to clear her head after all this stress and fear. She took one last look at the smoke riding the tops of the trees, then walked into the house.
In the hallway Pierce caught and held her wrist gently. "Please come into my study."
She followed him down the hallway. It felt strange to no longer be under the stress of a murder plot. Pierce closed the door behind them. She sat down on a chair, her legs curiously weak.
He looked at her. "I had to protect Hawk, and I had to protect you. We came here to right a wrong -- in the process we've changed the lives of so many people."
"History has been rewritten because of our interference." She looked at him, wetting her lips. "I'm almost afraid to go back and see what changes have been wrought." Her eyes were suddenly riveted to the heavy tome on his desk. The Bible.
Isabeau passed a trembling hand over her eyes, slumping into the chair. "I don't even want to touch that book. Everything seemed to be set in motion by that Bible." She suddenly threw her head back. "The date -- what's today's date?"
Pierce knelt beside her, hands massaging the coldness of her arms through the cotton sleeves of her shirt. "Sweetheart," he whispered, "today is May 20. Hawk and I are very much alive. With any luck, we'll stay that way for some time."
"Yesterday was the 19th?"
"Yes."
Isabeau felt light-headed.
"Don't let our future scare you," he urged. "We're meant to be together. It doesn't matter how -- all the proof is clear. I accept it. I want you to marry me." Pierce's voice vibrated with emotion. "I love you."
It was everything she had ever wanted, to be loved by this man, yet Isabeau felt hampered by an uneasiness she couldn't shake. She touched his cheek. "And I love you so very much. I want to believe in a future for us." A happily-ever-after, but a shiver crawled up her spine. "Nothing will change that, but --"
"The threat is gone. It's gone."
"But we're still here. What if I marry you, we're here together, and maybe we start a family. Then one day one of us disappears? I don't think I can do this to you -- to myself. I can't marry you."
"We can take the chance together," he said urgently. "I would rather have you now than not at all. For however long it will last."
"I wish I had your confidence." A deep ache clawed at her.
Pierce worried about the feverish glitter in her eyes. He touched her forehead. "Your cheeks are red. Do you feel well?"
"I'm fine. I know you're right, we should take what we have right now."
He pressed his forehead to hers. "We have so much to learn about each other. I don't know anything about you, what kind of life you lived before coming here. Maybe everything has been changed around again, and we're both supposed to stay here."
"I just have this notion things are off balance."
"This is forever, Isabeau," he said gruffly. "We belong together. This traveling through time together should prove that."
Dropping to the sofa, he pulled her on his lap. Isabeau put her head against his chest and they sat there, content to be together. There were still loose ends that needed to be tied up, but they could wait. Isabeau knew her mission in coming here had been completed, but she still felt on edge.
#
Isabeau perched on a curved stone bench by the river's edge, the gardens flowering in vivid hues at her back. Maize sat beside her.
"Hawk is safe, as is Hawk's Den," Isabeau stated. "But when will Malry return? How can any of this work with Hawk and Pierce in the same time period?" she asked in frustration. "Malry should have been back by now."
"They will come," Maize said with certainty. "There is much to be cleared up in the investigation." The older woman delved into a deep apron pocket and held out to Isabeau a gold locket and chain.
Isabeau accepted it, studying the glint of gold as the sunlight caught it. Roses delicately twined along the surface of the locket, the workmanship and detail exquisite.
"It's beautiful," she said.
"It is yours. Call it a small thank you from Belva and I." Maize gently took her hand. "The history is old, but Treat was always jealous of his older brother, the true heir of his father. Brendon neglected Treat by not acknowledging him. That neglect and his mother's ranting about what was owed him allowed Treat's bitterness to flourish until it was out of control. Perhaps it was her indulgence that drove Treat to these acts against his brother. It is not for me to judge. All I know is there is a mother without a son, and a man without his brother.
"Nothing can repay what you and Pierce have done. It was all so complicated -- neither Belva nor I guessed Pierce was not our nephew."
"The amnesia complicated everything."
Belva opened her palm. "This you must take also." In her palm rested a man's ring. Black onyx with a fancy silver engraving along the band. A bird in flight was forever caught in the onyx.
Isabeau studied the ring, but her focus wavered. She rubbed her eyes.
"You must give this ring to Pierce."
"Why can't you give it to him?" Isabeau asked.
"You and he are connected through time. The ring must bear your energy and come from you. It could help in getting back to your own time."
"What if it doesn't work?"
"Then you stay here, my dear. I would not mind having you here, but I know you're anxious to go home, as you should be."
"Pierce wants us to be married."
"What have you told him?"
"What can I tell him?" Isabeau's voice reflected her despair. "God knows I would stay if it meant we would be together our entire lives."
"No one knows for certain what hand fate may play."
Placing the chain around her neck, Isabeau touched the locket as it rested against her breastbone. The ring bit into her palm as she tightly closed her fist.
"What if I forget everything that happened here when I return?" She noticed the darkening sky as a storm moved in. "If I can't find Pierce or he no longer loves me, what then?" Maybe if her memory was erased, she wouldn't have this ache in her heart.
#
The following day Isabeau still couldn't shake a disturbing lightheaded feeling. She sought out Belva in her rooms. She knocked briskly and Belva opened the door immediately. The older woman stepped back, indicating with a sweep of her arm Isabeau should enter the room.
"Welcome, Isabeau. How do you fare? Please come in."
Although it was a beautiful sunny day outside, the curtains in the sitting room had been tightly drawn. Two lamps were lit beside a table that occupied the center of the room, a chair on either side. A stack of heavy tomes sat on the floor beside one of the chairs.
"Come sit down," Belva invited. "I have been waiting for you."
Isabeau stared at the small table between the chairs. Numbers, letters and symbols had been
crudely carved into the wooden table-top. It vaguely reminded her of a Ouija board a friend of hers had used when conducting séances for fun.
"Maize calls it my devil board," Belva said, lovingly tracing her fingers over the symbols on the wooden surface.
Isabeau noticed Belva's eyes looked strangely clouded.
"It speaks to me, Isabeau. This is how I conjure the spirits. They are all around us now. Can you feel them?"
Isabeau looked around warily. "I don't feel or see anything."
"I have researched how to reverse the spell to send you back."
"What about Pierce?"
"I believe it will work for Pierce also."
"You don't sound really certain. Can I see the books you've researched? Maybe I can help you figure out the spell or whatever it is."
Belva indicated the books beside her chair. "Can you read Latin?
"No."
"No matter. Please sit opposite me."
Isabeau, loathe to sit down next to the strange board, stood instead behind the chair. "I don't think so. I'm not ready to leave."
Belva raised her brows in surprise.
"What about Pierce?" Isabeau asked. "We have to go back together."
"There is no choice in the matter. All things were set in motion upon the first invocation. The spirit has indicated you will both go back. Time means nothing on the other side."
Isabeau stepped away from the chair and from Belva. She turned her head, looking quickly around the dark room. There was now an eerie mist swirling around their heads. It felt cool against her cheeks. She rubbed her cheeks and forehead. "No, Belva, I'm not ready."
She backed toward the door. Belva extended her hands over the table, and the fine mist concentrated into a thin line, hovering and entwining with her splayed fingers, like smoke from a fine cigar. Belva began to speak in a voice much deeper than her own. "Life is a serpentine, winding back and forth upon itself, a never ending circle."
Isabeau stood with her back to the door, gripping the glass knob. "Pierce and I need to return to our own time together."
"It is done," the voice said.
"Who are you?" she asked, unable to determine gender.
"A light being who moves between the three worlds."
"How do I get back?"
"It is as simple as walking through a door. Your life is on the other side."
"And what about Pierce?"
"His life is beyond an open door also."
"But will we both go through the same door?"
"That is by your own design."
The light from the lamps cast an eerie shadow across Belva's face.