The E. T. I. A Files: Across Time And Space
3pm, 11th August, 1914
James' words rang in her ears, as Louisa trudged along the lane. The late afternoon, warm and breezy, played with the loose red curls spilling down her back, as she walked along in a daze.
After James had left, she had paced the parlour for an hour, refused luncheon, then decided to get out. She needed air, and she needed peace without strangers looking in on her. She had rejected a ride, not wanting anymore reminders of James, and even just looking at a saddle made her think of him.
She clutched her shawl closer around her arms, as she walked and thought hard.
He was right. She was scared.
She, who had lived in different time periods, and fought off over-ardent courtiers and thieves and assassins. She who had gone back in time at the behest of a long-dead old family friend.
And she was scared.
This was so much bigger than any E. T. I. A regulation. Heck, she'd accomplished what she'd joined the agency to do, or would accomplish it soon. She could retire, job done, promise kept.
It had been inevitable, all of it. She had been in love with Nicholls…with James since she was a child. Grumps had seen to that.
But the strength of that emotion terrified her. It was so unpredictable, so wild. It had already made her abandon her professionalism and will on more than one occasion around him. If anyone had tried that in any other time period, she'd have hit them somewhere very vulnerable and painful to the male anatomy.
And for the first time in a long time…she was happy. Or had been.
She could be again, if she just said yes. But wouldn't that add to the sting of betrayal once she took him back? Wouldn't he just hate her more?
She thought all that would happen when she took him back. The debriefings, the recovery, the integration back into modern society. Many agents had to take a step back, if their targets became hostile to them on account of the transfer. Most didn't, but then most didn't ask their rescuers to marry them.
And there was the fact he thought her to be a widowed Lady, not…what she really was. How would they even get along? She was a modern, independent woman, and in the 21st century, she would behave in ways he'd find appalling and unnatural.
Like wearing trousers. God, she missed trousers.
So, she had accepted it would not work back home. But then…would she be truly selfish if she were to marry him and grasp what happiness they might before it all came crashing down?
Or would that just make it all the more painful, all the more bitter, for him in the end? And torturing for herself, tormented by memories of another life, one that would be taken from her when she fulfilled the mission and took him back to the 21st century?
She already knew she'd be miserable without him, emotionally at least. Hell, she was miserable now. It would be ten times worse when he awoke to find almost everything she had ever told him was a lie. But perhaps…if she could have those memories, that happiness, she could survive and continue existing, continue working with just the warmth of her memories and the knowledge that he was safe and alive.
Could she?
She heard the sound of men's voice shouting, and the neighs of horses, and looked up to find herself on the edge of the woods bordering the barracks. A self-deprecating smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and she chuckled.
It seemed her choice was already made for her, and her mind had just come to terms with it.
"Milady!" a familiar voice called, and she turned to find Lieutenant Waverly riding up on his Blenheim. "Lady Dunham, what are you doing out here this fine afternoon? Why, it is almost teatime!"
"I was just…walking. And thinking," she replied, truthfully. She hesitated, as Blenheim stamped his hoof impatiently. "Do you know where I could find James? I mean Captain Nicholls?"
Charlie smiled knowingly, before inclining his head. "He's supervising some of the new recruits. Have to get them up to scratch before shipping out," he explained. "Tell you what, walk back with me and I'll fetch him for you."
With a gracious smile, she acquiesced, and he dismounted to walk with her, Blenheim's reins held securely in one hand. They walked in companionable silence for a moment, before Charlie felt compelled to speak.
"I don't suppose you would know why Jim has been in such a frightful temper these last few days?" he asked, eying the fiery-haired beauty beside him. "So intemperate, it's almost been funny."
Louisa glanced away. "I might have some idea," she admitted. "Tell me, Lieutenant. How is Miss Stafford?"
Charlie coloured, and cleared his throat, as Louisa looked back at him with a teasing smile.
They walked down to the main stable block, Louisa ignoring the curious and sometimes disapproving looks the soldiers and officers sent her way, while a groom took Blenheim from Charlie.
"Now, let's find your man," Charlie winked at her, and she rolled her eyes. Despite his lackadaisical bonhomie, he was a kind soul. "Really, you shouldn't be here but if you don't tell the General, I won't."
"My lips are sealed," Louisa promised with a grin. Butterflies jumped in her stomach, and suddenly she felt nervous. What if her continued resistance had changed his mind? What if he no longer wanted her?
It would make things simpler, she supposed.
But he had said he would not give up. She both hoped and feared he was true to his word.
Charlie led Louisa into the officers' mess, a long, oak-panelled suite of rooms with wide windows letting in the sunlight. The walls were covered in saddle racks and bridle hooks, the polished leather gleaming. The familiar smell comforted her, settled her nerves, as Charlie led her through, into what looked like a cross between a small office, and a living room.
"Wait here, and I'll fetch him," Charlie smiled. He turned sharply about and marched off, face flushed with amusement. He passed Jamie on the way.
"What are you grinning about?" he asked gruffly. Charlie paused.
"Lady Dunham came, looking for Jim," he replied, as the senior officer looked up from his work, and eyed him coolly. "I'm just going to fetch him. The dam has broken, I think."
"About time too," Jamie huffed, turning away. "Just don't be too long about it, Lieutenant."
"Yes, Major," Charlie rolled his eyes once Jamie's back was turned, and continued on his way.
He found Jim in the barn, rather roughly buffing a stirrup leather, and he smirked to himself before assuming a bored expression and clearing his throat.
His friend looked up, his stormy expression clearing as he sighed. "Oh, Charlie, it's you," he said, with a hint of his old, cheerful smile. "Am I needed somewhere?"
"Why, yes I rather think you are, old boy," Charlie couldn't help but smirk, as Jim frowned in confusion. "There's a rather lovely young lady in the officers' mess, waiting for you. Seemed rather anxious to speak with you, actually-"
Jim was away before he'd even finished speaking. Charlie laughed and followed a way behind, as Jamie smirked slightly as the Captain passed him.
This ought to be amusing.
She was here. Only hours after he'd left her, and she was here. But what for? To again refuse his suit? To inform him she had changed her mind?
Jim could barely dare to hope.
He watched her, standing in the doorway, unnoticed and hidden in the shadows cast in the declining afternoon sun by the saddle racks, as she wandered the mess room, beautiful and vibrant as a star.
Her walking gown of soft, velvet blue, dark as a sapphire, clung to her slender form, a cream eggshell shawl dangling from her elbows. Her hair was unfashionably loose, falling down her back in a curly mass of fire and auburn, restrained only at the sides so her face was clear.
She paused by his desk, and a strange smile washed over her face as she stared at the cavalry pennant Albert had tied to Joey's bridle, the day he bought him from Albert's father.
She touched it, almost reverently, and then her smile turned misty. The sight made his chest ache. Intrigued, he decided to make his presence known, and stepped forward, clearing his throat.
She jumped and spun, eyes wide like a deer, and he could see that a filmy white lace blouse lay beneath the walking jacket, paler even than her skin.
"My Lady," he began formally. "What brings you here?"
She frowned, perhaps surprised by his coldness, but if only she could feel how his heart was beating in agonised hope. He longed to step forward and take her in his arms, but he could not be sure this was not another rejection.
He did however move further into the room, as she wrung her gloved hands. She appeared, almost…nervous, if he could believe that of his fiery, courageous Louisa.
"Are you quite well, my lady?" he asked, stepping towards her. "You seem a little…flushed."
"I walked here," she burst out. "I-I mean I wanted to think, and I went walking, and I ended up here."
Hope rose with every word. He moved closer, and she looked down, all but squirming with discomfort. She seemed intently focussed on a stitch in her glove.
"Louisa," he breathed.
"I mean after this morning, I…and then I just…" she babbled on. "I'm sorry, I never usually ramble."
"You're still rambling," he chuckled softly, tipping her chin up with two fingers, meeting her eyes, which were wide and fearful, but burning with something that set his own body aflame.
"I just…yes. If you still want me, that is," she breathed. "Yes, I'll marry you."
A wide, beaming smile spread across Jim's face, and he wasted no time in setting his lips to hers. Taken aback by the sudden movement, she moved back a step, but he slid his arms around her waist, pulling her to him.
This time, neither held back.
After a moment, Louisa kissed him back with a fire he had not felt in her before, in their previous interludes. She met his passion and met it with her own, no longer submissive or tentative, but hungry and urgent. Her tongue met and duelled with his passionately, and he groaned. His hands left her waist, to cup her face, before falling to her shoulders, pulling her impossibly closer. She tilted her head beneath his, inviting his possession, and he took gladly, burying one hand in her curls.
As the truth of the last few moments sunk in, his urgency lessened and joy rose, heady as champagne in his blood, and his kiss turned light, teasing, tiny, unsatisfying caresses that taunted them both, but she smiled, with a sudden joy and freedom that he hadn't seen in her eyes before. Tension was gone, the battle over.
He buried his face in her hair, holding her close, as her hands strained him to her. "Thank you, my love," he breathed, inhaling the scent of her perfume, roses and musk. "Thank you for making me the happiest man alive."
"I love you, James," she whispered, suddenly sounding so sad, that he drew back, searching her eyes. "I do love you, so much."
Unable to bear the pain in those eyes, he bent his head to brush a soothing, calming caress over her lips.
"It's alright, love. We're together now, affianced. All is well and mended," he told her, assuring her he felt no resentment over her resistance. "I love you more than my own flesh, my own breath."
She inhaled shakily, and pressed her head against his chest, and he held her with a contented sigh, his joy only lessened by his worry. He felt her head shift slightly, her neck arching back, then his heart stopped as he felt her lips press, just gently, ever-so-slight, against his neck above his collar, and his reaction truly surprised him.
The power of his desire, now she was nearly his, was almost scarifying in its intensity.
She raised her head, and he smiled to hide his reaction, but the knowing, sly, womanly smile, that dissipated her desperation, told him he had failed miserably.
"Marry me, Louisa. Soon," he breathed, and she nodded.
"When? How?" she asked, as he turned and led her to his desk, sitting down on his chair and pulling her into his lap.
"I have a special licence, in my pocket, that I procured some days ago," he told her, somewhat sheepishly. "As soon as I knew I wanted to marry you, I had to."
She sighed, shaking her head. "Of course you did. Go on."
"We only need two witnesses and proof of residence," he continued. "I have some leave this weekend. Marry me on Saturday."
"Yes," she whispered, with a small smile, bending her head to his. "Who will you ask? What of your family?"
"I will take you to meet my family later," he replied. "I want to be married to you now, Louisa. It is not shame, or reticence that stops me from doing this properly, but impatience."
Louisa chuckled. "Of course not, sweetheart," she breathed. His eyes softened, and he pressed a kiss to her neck.
"What of you? Your family?" he asked. She had never really mentioned family, or even her first husband, beyond telling him she grew up on a stud farm.
"There are none, so no need to worry about interference there," she assured him with a smile. "Who will you ask as witnesses?"
"I thought Charlie and Jamie, of course," he smiled, a little wryly. "And Miss Stafford?"
"Perfect," she murmured. He shifted slightly beneath her, and she shivered at the feel of his thighs moving against hers. He stilled, as desire washed over them again, but he forced it back.
"Speaking of which," he called out, making Louisa start. "You can come in, now."
Louisa's eyes widened, as she looked round to see Jamie and Charlie poke their heads in sheepishly.
"Sorry, old chap," Charlie chuckled. "Couldn't resist."
Louisa stood from Jim's lap, as Jamie reached for her hand. "Lady Dunham, my sincerest congratulations," he smiled, the first happy smile she'd ever seen from him. "As much as I hate to tear your fiancé from you, I fear we have duties to see to. Jim?"
"Yes, of course," Jim nodded. With a devilish wink, Charlie and Jamie disappeared again, as Jim stepped close, taking Louisa's hands. "My love, you've made me the happiest of men."
"That's all I want. You to be happy," she whispered, that shadow of pain once again crossing her face, making his heart ache with confusion and longing to wipe it away. "I had better go and prepare. And warn Mariah."
With a smile and a kiss on his cheek, she turned away but not before he snatched her back, into his arms, and bent his head to hers, sweeping her senses away with his lips and tongue. She gasped, and sank against him, hands buried in his hair, as he pressed deeply into her mouth once, twice, and then retreated, leaving her breathless and dazed.
He almost had to restrain his laughter at the sight. Her eyes narrowed, and she swatted him with one gloved hand.
"You are a devil incarnate," she hissed teasingly, as he followed her out.
"Only for you, my love," he whispered against her ear, before reassuming his blank, cool officer's mask, and she her own socially polite façade, as they parted chastely in the stable yard, making plans for Jim to call on her the next morning.
