She sighs. “At least you are honest. I thought it might be like that between you.”
“You object?”
She walks over to embrace me. “Nicolas seems like exactly the sort of man I should want for you, Miranda. I cannot say heisthat man on such short acquaintance, but if he is as he appears, then I do not object at all to the forming of a romantic attachment. If I do object to anything, it is a more practical concern.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
She raps my knuckles. “Do not mock me. Practicality is a fine trait. It allows me to urge caution where you might be too caught up in a romance to do the same.”
“You wish to warn me against falling too hard for him when he is not from my world.”
“Actually, no. Is thatyourconcern?”
When I don’t answer, she says, “Silly question. You may have had lovers, but you have never been in love. Do not look so surprised. You don’t need to confide such things in me for me to see them. In that regard, I might actually urge less caution. Follow your heart. Nicolas does not seem the sort of man to abuse it.”
“He is not.”
“Good, then my concern was far more practical. What do you use for birth control?”
It takes me a moment to understand what she means, the phrase unfamiliar.
“For preventing a pregnancy?” I shake my head. “We are not having the sort of intimate relations that would cause one. Nicolas insists on that until we have French letters, for both protection against pregnancy and disease.”
Rosalind smiles. “Then I like him even more. I will also point out that your young physician may benefit from the gift of modern medical texts, which would show that the spread of disease is not contained to intercourse. However, if he seems healthy in that respect—and you do as well—we will temporarily overlook that danger. The twenty-first century has far more effective and more comfortable methods of protection than his ‘French letters.’ Bronwyn can procure those. Until then, I’m sure you can find plenty of amusements short of that.” She waves at the door. “Go. Just watch that you lock the door and do not make enough noise to have Edmund investigating again.”
I slipinto Nicolas’s room. He is at the window, still dressed, gazing out. When he sees me, he smiles.
“I had hoped you could slip away.”
“Rosalind knows where I am, and she does not object. She has also promised us proper methods of birth and disease protection from the twenty-first century.”
“That is both wonderful to hear and terrifying at the same time. The thought that one can simply pop into the future to obtain such things...”
“Wondrous?”
“Truly wondrous.”
He swings me off my feet and carries me to the bed, where he lays me on top and crawls on beside me.
“Should we not draw back the coverlet first?” I say.
“That would suggest I am ready for more than conversation.”
I slump onto the bed. “As much as I enjoy your conversation, Nico, I cannot help but feel we may have done enough talking for one night.”
“If you are tired, then we will indeed pull back the coverlet. If you are not, then I must beg your indulgence a while longer. There are things I need to say.”
I sober and turn on my side to look at him. “I was only teasing. We may discuss whatever you need to discuss.”
“Thank you.” He slides closer, hands going around my hips. “You came through time for me, Miranda. Yes, you did not intend to, but Fate brought you through time for me, and then you insisted on helping me even when I was far from a gracious recipient of your concern. You did not merely impart a warning. You broke from the room where I rudely imprisoned you, and you pursued me to be sure I was safe, and when you were shot doing so, you continued, badly wounded, to save me. That part was not Fate. That was you. Sometimes, the stitch seems to be whatever the ladies of this house need it to be. It brought you to me, and that is no small thing. I believe it is confirmation of what I already know. That we have found one another, across the centuries. That what I feel is no passing whim. No strange fancy. I am in love with you, and I do not wish to lose you.”
When I open my mouth, he stops my words with a light kiss. “I am almost done. I promise. To that declaration, I must add a codicil. You may not feel the same. Even if you do, you may understandably not be ready to commit yourself to a man you’ve known for three days. I am not asking for that. I am simply circling back to what I was saying earlier this evening. This is more than a lark for me. More than a passing affair. If we are to continue, then I need to know where I stand. Do you intend it as a brief affair? Or are you willing to try for more?”
The answer should be obvious. My heart swells with it, my mind reeling with the dizzying thought that I mightnotlose him in a day or two, a week or two. Yet when I open my mouth, nothing comes.
“Is it the complications of our separate worlds?” he says. “I have read tragic stories about lovers who say they are from different worlds, but it is never so true as with us. Your family and your life are here. My family and my life are there. I believe, with the help of this stitch and permission from the Thornes, we could reconcile that. Do you disagree?”
“I love you.”