Page 76 of Misadventures with a Time Traveler

Max

Henri and Pasca have been generous about extending their hospitality, allowing me to stay another night at the château, in Bastien’s old bedroom. Apparently my old chamber was gutted and added on to the château’s spa—another concept, like so many, that has gained new meaning from what it meant in my century.

My century.

What is the meaning of that anymore?

I pace the chamber, considering the question. My head and heart respond with naught but murky globs.

But the canyons of my soul yield a different answer. The truth of it is like a hawk rising from mist, clear and sure and strong and free.

My century is hers.

My home is Allie.

My time is now.

Even if that means there are but days to now live that truth.

Surprisingly, the chamber has not changed much since the days my brother dwelled here. The furnishings are still defined by his favorite combination: dark blue and crimson. His writing desk is still next to the window, in the position he preferred for watching the sunrise. There are still a few nicks in the wainscoting, courtesy of the fencing battles in which he and I indulged behind Mother’s back.

Happier times.

Perfect memories.

I breathe in deep, hoping their comfort will fill the pain in my chest. But newer memories are there now. Better ones.

I close my eyes, holding images of Alessandra in my mind like an engraving. Every beautiful detail. The gloss of her hair in the sun. The perfection of her silken skin. The radiance of her intelligence, always shining in the verdancy of her eyes. The sublime, sensual grace of her curves.

My knees weaken. I plummet into one of the deep wingback chairs before the fire and fix my gaze on the hottest core of the flames, near the tangle of the logs. Though my sockets sting and my body aches, I do not move. The pain brings a consoling numbness. Moving means I must stir the memories once more. I should just remain here…for as long as I can…

I am so determined to remain my own sentry, I barely acknowledge the chamber door opening. Or the appearance of the two smirking women in front of me, with their hair colors that match the décor.

I jump to my feet with newly fisted hands, until they back off as if having sprung a caged boar.

“Easy, cowboy.” Drue raises her palms. “We come in peace.”

I slacken my own stance. “Mistresses.” I execute a decent if impatient bow. “Your presence is not unwelcome…though perplexing.” I pivot back toward Bastien’s desk to check the time on his treasured clock, and my chest tightens when I realize it has been removed. Or perhaps stolen by the mob from that terrible day… “The day grows late. Twilight is near. Should you not have been departed by now?”

“Yeah, well…” Drue tapers off the word into a quirk of a shrug. “That was before the raincloud rager kept our asses parked in the forest for two hours.”

“Which turned out to be a blessing in disguise,” Raegan adds.

I nod, though my perplexity about their intrusion persists.

“Since Dmitri had to move our charter’s flight time back, we had time to come back here and change first,” Drue explains.

“Ah. Oui.” I am still not elucidated.

“And grab the last of the essentials.” Raegan inserts a new grin.

“Ah…oui?”

“Like you.”

The women announce it together—and finish with extended giggles.

I do not giggle. Nor, however, have I been cleared from my bewilderment. The duo have freed me from one perplexed mire, only to drag me into another.