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Chapter Fourteen
I had barely let this fact sink in, when Michael snarled at me, "Alright...I've had enough of this tiptoeing around, Rosie! Why you did you buy that key from me?"
His hoarse voice sent horrible chills down my spine and being in this close proximity to him, my nostrils were filled with nothing but the pungent scent of stale cigarettes. It took me a minute or two before I was able to answer him. His slamming me against the wall had completely winded me.
"I told you before, I collect them," I started feebly, wincing from the pain between my shoulder blades.
"Bollocks!" he said viciously. "Who's the liar now, huh? I know that you know something about what it really does!" His hands were encircling my upper arms in a vice-like grip, pinning me to the wall. "What do you know? Tell me!" he added harshly, still managing to keep his voice down so as not to attract attention from passersby on the street.
So...did this mean that he didn't know what power the key supposedly had? I didn't understand... What was going on?
I struggled against him, trying desperately to free myself, wincing when he would not slacken his grip. In fact, my movements only seemed to make him tighten his hold on me.
"Get your hands off me!" I hissed at him, trying hard not to panic and failing appallingly. "I'm not telling you anything! I don't even know what you're talking about!"
How did I ever think that this guy was attractive? I thought wildly.
"Oh, really?" Michael said sardonically. "So you know nothing about that door in your bedroom, then? The one that shouldn't go anywhere?"
I gulped. Fear was piercing at my heart like a thousand sharp blades. How the hell did he know about the door? Michael was watching me carefully, seeming to guess the truth.
"Where...does...that...door...go?" he asked me slowly, sounding as though it was costing him an awful lot of effort to remain calm and to keep his voice steady.
When I failed to answer, one of his spider-like hands released my arm but instead flew to the side of my throat and squeezed threateningly.
"If you don't tell me, I swear to God I'll break that pretty neck of yours!"
Even though I was scared witless that he might act upon this threat, I raised my chin in what I hoped was a defiant manner.
"I'm not going to tell you anything," I said with a calmness and bravado which I certainly didn't feel.
But I certainly wasn't going to let on any information about the key or the door. If this guy was a dangerous nutter, then there was no way on earth that I would subject James, Georgina or any of them in that time to him. I would never forgive myself.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Rosie..." Michael continued in a dangerously low growl, abandoning all pretence of remaining calm. When I still failed to answer him, he said through gritted teeth, "If you don't tell me...then I will just have to take what I want by force..."
In the pallid glare from the lamppost, I caught the expression in Michael's brown eyes which looked almost black in the failing light. They were filled with anger, greed, determination and something else entirely which made my insides freeze as though I had ingested a bucketful of ice. Oh my god... That was lust in his eyes...and it could not have been any clearer what his intentions were. One of his hands was still pinning me to the wall, but the other which had been fastened to the side of my throat suddenly began to make its descent to the hem of my skirt... Oh, hell no!
Though I was paralysed with fear, somewhere within me, I could feel a hot rush of anger boil up. No, no, no... I was not going to let this happen to me! I wasn't about to stand there all helpless and passive for him to let him do god knows what to me... I had to do something!
Knowing that I had to act quickly, with all the strength I could muster in my desperation, I brought my leg up...and promptly kneed Michael in the groin. I heard him utter a loud groan of pain and he drew back, but I did not dare linger to see if I had successfully hit my mark. In a blind panic, I pushed past him and fled to the main street, back into the open where there was people milling about on the pavement. Breathing hard, gathering my wits, I looked around desperately for a taxi, spotted one not far off and held out my arm to hail it. I wanted to put as much distance between myself and Michael as was humanly possible. As soon as the taxi driver had slowed to a stop, I all but flew onto the back seat, slamming the door closed behind me.
"Yes, love, where to?" the cabbie asked me friendlily, turning his head slightly to look at me. I couldn't answer at first; I was too busy trying to catch my breath and will my heart rate to relax. " 'ere now, you're not plastered, are you?" the cab driver asked me in slight alarm. "D'you know how long that smell stays when someone throws up in 'ere - ?"
"I-I'm not drunk," I assured him in a shaking voice.
"You sure you're alright though, love?" he asked in concern, furrowing his brows as he took a good look at my face. "You look very pale."
"Y-Yeah, I'm fine. I j-just want to g-go home..."
I told the driver my address, looking out of the back window of the taxi to check whether Michael had followed me, but there was no sign of him anywhere on the street. Once we were on our way, I slumped back in my seat, huffing out a shaky breath. I then pulled my phone out from my bag – which I had miraculously managed to hold on to - and scrolled down to Alice's number. Opening up a blank message, I quickly typed out:
Had enough, sorry. Gone home. Got a taxi. Call u later, R xxx
I sent the text, faintly surprised that the message was intelligible as my hands were shaking so badly, hoping Alice would have the presence of mind to check her phone as she probably wouldn't be able to hear it inside the club and that by the time she read it, she wasn't blind drunk. Just to be sure, I sent the same message to Imogen as well. Looking back on it, I probably should have gone back to find the twins...but I suppose right now I was in too much of a panic to think straight and I just wanted to be as far away from that club as possible.
When at last I reached my house and stepped out of the taxi, I noticed the lights were all off. Mum couldn't have been home yet. I realised that I must have left the club still pretty early. I hastily gave the cabbie his fare, who, rather sweetly I thought, told me to take care of myself before I ran to let myself into the house. Sure enough, when I flicked on a light, Mum was conspicuous by her absence. I let out an audible sniff, finding myself at a bit of a loss. I would have loved nothing better than to have a cuddle with my mummy right now...for her to comfort me and stroke my hair the way she always did whenever I was upset over anything. Nothing could hurt me while I was in my mother's arms. The monsters and demons would all go away...
I hurried upstairs to my room, where I dumped my bag, and then flopped onto my bed, still fully dressed. I grabbed up Olly, my little stuffed dog, and cuddled him tightly to my chest like a security blanket, willing myself to stop shaking.
Left here all alone in the house where it was eerily silent except for the faint gurgle of the pipes, it led to my imagination running completely riot at what might have happened if I hadn't got the hell away from Michael. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, trying to force myself not to think of what might have been. But it was extremely difficult not to; it was like someone telling you not to think of an elephant but you immediately think of an elephant anyway.
Tears of shock involuntarily fell down my cheeks. Oh, how silly... I thought, impatiently scraping them away with my hands. I didn't want to cry over him. That waste of space wasn't worth it. I wasn't sure how long I lay there curled up in the middle of my bed, when all of a sudden, I heard a soft tap-tap-tap.
Now what?
I tensed and slowly sat up, my eyes flying around the room to see where the noise was coming from. I slid myself off the bed to have a look around when I heard it again. A gentle tap-tap-tap. Then it dawned on me that it was coming from behind my mystery door. I bent down beneath my bed to retrieve the key. I felt a sickening sensation in my stomach as I looked down at the brass piece, unable to see it now without thinking about its previous owner. Taking a deep breath, I slowly but cautiously approached the door, biting my lip. Should I open it? I carefully unlocked it where it gave out a loud click... I swallowed nervously as I inched the door open a crack to find myself faced with a very familiar pair of twinkling blue eyes.
"James?"
I pulled the door open wider, the hinges creaking as I did so. The light from my bedroom flooded the stairway beyond, and sure enough to my surprise, there was James on the top step.
"Hello, Rosie. I hope I am not disturbing you, it's just that you left behind your – "
He held up what I recognised as my hooded top which I had been wearing during my last visit to his world. James broke off suddenly as he took in what must have been my rather dishevelled appearance. As his gaze swept over my panda eyes – which I hastily tried to fix with my hands but probably made them worse - his smiling demeanour immediately changed to one of concern and worry.
"Oh...thank you," I said, taking the top from him and attempting a smile, trying my best to compose myself and not doing a very good job of it. "Uh...do you, um..." I swallowed. "Do you want to come in?" I asked him, feeling it would be rude to keep him hanging around on the steps. At his slight hesitation, I added, "It's fine, my mum's not even here..."
James was so tall that he had to duck his head as he stepped through the doorway. As I closed the door behind him, I saw him survey my bedroom quickly before he turned back to face me, his brows still furrowed in concern.
"Rosie, you look as white as a sheet, what's the matter?" he asked me urgently, immediately sensing my agitation.
I was tempted to say "Nothing" but I could feel my composure crumble under his scrutiny. There was little point in lying to him. My lip trembled, and before I could stop myself, I had buried my face against his chest, one hand reaching up to cling to the one of the lapels of his smart jacket, not caring one jot if it was inappropriate or whatever. I wasn't going to cry...I just wanted someone to hold me. I could feel him freeze for a moment as though in shock but then I felt two long, very strong but gentle arms wrap themselves around me. I inhaled deeply, relishing his comforting, clean scent. He smelt of leather, fresh air and something else distinctly masculine which made him so...James.
"You're trembling like a leaf, old thing," he said, running a hand up and down my back soothingly. "Whatever is it?"
I pulled back a little to look up at him. In a rather wobbly voice, I relived to him what had happened earlier today, from when Alice had discovered her fiancée had been seeing somebody else behind her back; Imogen's spontaneous suggestion of going out clubbing to cheer her up and take her mind off it...then to my frightening encounter with Michael Paris... As I reached the part where that creep had me cornered, I could feel my throat seize up as though I couldn't go on. I saw James' normally kind eyes darken and even spotted a spark of rage there, and I felt his fingers tighten on my shoulders, though not hard enough to cause me any discomfort.
"Did he hurt you?" he demanded suddenly, his voice tight. "He didn't – ?"
"No! No, he didn't," I assured him hastily, "I kneed him in the balls, legged it and managed to get a taxi home..." Though I felt sick with dread at the thought if I hadn't managed to escape from Michael. "It just shook me up a lot."
"Thank god you left before he could...do anything else. I don't even want to think about what could have happened if..." James trailed off, swallowing back a lump in his throat.
His hold on me became tighter as if he had allowed his mind to wander to that terrible place. He pulled me into his embrace once more so that my head was rested against his chest. I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat; the sound was oddly comforting.
"But what does Michael even want?" I mumbled against him, that question which had been plaguing me.
"That doesn't matter at present...all that matters is that you are safe," James said.
Knowing that he was right, my hand crept up to where one of his rested on my arm and I gave it a squeeze. I had no idea how long the two of us remained like this but I could have stayed here in his arms forever.
"Why don't you let me make you some tea to calm your nerves?" he suggested quietly. "Put some colour back into those cheeks?"
Despite myself, I wanted to laugh and roll my eyes. Tea...the solution to everything.
"As I remember correctly, you did not take very kindly to brandy..." he added and I heard the trace of laughter in his tone, which made me smile in response. He'd only been here for a few minutes and I was already feeling miles better.
"Tea sounds lovely actually," I sighed, pulling back from him. "Come on then...kitchen's this way..."
I tugged on his hand to lead the way down the stairs. As we reached the hallway, James still kept a firm hold on my hand as though scared something untoward would happen to me if he let go. But he gazed around in wide-eyed wonder at the odd assortment of furniture in our living room, taking in all the gadgets were no doubt strange to his eyes.
"So...this is the year 2012 then..." he said at length, unable to keep the awe out of his voice at the fact that he was really in the future.
I nodded. "I know this is nowhere near as grand as your house but – "
"Nonsense...I think that this is a charming home," James answered, as I led him into the kitchen. "It is so quaint."
'Quaint' was not the word I would have used to describe the place when we had first arrived here but now...yes, I suppose it did have a certain charm to it. As I made to go make some tea, James stopped me.
"No, no, you sit down," he told me, pulling out a chair from the kitchen table and steering me onto it. "Let me do it."
But for all his eagerness to be helpful, he couldn't fathom how the electric kettle worked at first, which amused me somewhat.
"Just fill it up with water like you would normally and flick the switch at the wall there – " I pointed at the power socket I meant.
I watched him bustle about the kitchen, me indicating where various things were, and for the first time that evening, a genuine smile crept its way onto my face. It was quite surreal seeing him here in the twenty-first century world, in our modern kitchen amongst the gleaming surfaces and shiny appliances. And yet at the same time, it felt a real comfort that he was here with me right now. I had to smile as he marvelled over the fact that the kettle boiled so quickly.
"Here you are..." he said eventually, "milk and two sugars, just how you like it."
"You're the best, thank you," I smiled at him, accepting the hot mug gratefully as it warmed my shaky hands.
However, I didn't actually get to drink any of my tea; my hands were still trembling so much that I dropped my mug. It ricocheted off the edge of the table and shattered on the floor with a crash. Biting back a stream of extremely unladylike expletives, I let out a heavy sigh of frustration and went to fetch a cloth to mop up the mess. James bent down to help me gather up the broken shards of china. Then I flinched and let out a faint hiss of pain as one sharp piece sliced into my palm.
"Dammit," I cursed. I stood up and went to wash my hand under the cold tap to try and stem the bleeding. I wasn't usually such a klutz. But then again, I was exceptionally talented at embarrassing myself in front of James. "This just isn't my day, is it?" I mumbled. "That was my favourite mug too..."
"These things happen," James answered, standing next to me, looking more concerned at my injury than the state of my mug. "Now let me see that hand."
"It's just a cut – "
"All the same..." he insisted, holding his hand out to me so he could inspect my palm. "You should have it dressed, lest it becomes infected."
"There's a first aid kit under the sink," I murmured.
James brought out the green medical box which Mum kept handy at all times, and then sat beside me at the kitchen table, moving his chair closer to mine. I watched him as he set to work nursing my hand. He seemed to be making rather a business of it over such a little cut but I didn't care. I contented myself in watching his hands; I found them deeply fascinating. The pale, long, slender digits carefully wrapped a bandage around my comparatively smaller hand. And when he was finished, to my enormous surprise, he bent his head to place a gentle kiss on my palm (Oh Lord, have mercy!), his lips lingering far longer than what must be deemed appropriate...
"There...all better?" he asked me in no more than a whisper, the pad of his thumb running over my skin oh-so softly.
He was staring intently at me with those impossibly aquamarine pools, his gaze roving all over my face. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck and the fuzz on my arm tingle. It was the most tender expression I had ever seen on anyone's face, let alone his.
"I am now," I answered just as quietly.
Slowly, he tucked a hand to the side of my face, leaning closer to me... My heartbeat ratcheted up a few notches... No, no, this isn't happening! my mind screamed. This isn't real! ... His lips slid onto mine ever so gently, as soft as a butterfly's wing.
Ka-boom.
My heart stopped, seeming to give in completely... Once I had got over my initial shock, I squeezed my uninjured hand over his and kissed back, pressing my lips firmly to his. They were soft, warm and inviting. As though encouraged that I had not recoiled at his touch, I felt James' hands creep tentatively to my waist, and when I did not protest, he pulled me closer to him. I emitted a little noise of approval, my other hand snaking its way up to his shoulder to keep him in place. The sting of the cut on my palm and the ache between my shoulder blades was now long forgotten...
I had had a couple of crushes on boys during my time at school, but I had never felt this aching need for somebody coursing through my veins as I did for this man before me. These feelings were so new and alien to me...it was both wonderful and alarming at the same time. Unbidden, the memory of that day when I had walked in on James getting dressed and I had caught a fleeting glimpse of his bare back in his mirror came creeping into my mind. Unconsciously, I found myself deepening the kiss. I was expecting him to break away at any moment, perhaps thinking I had gone too far, but to my surprise (and delight) he responded enthusiastically; I could feel him smiling against my mouth.
But all too soon, the pair of us were in need of oxygen. We broke apart, breathless, and I could feel this great bubble of happiness swelling up inside me. I slowly opened my eyes to see that James' still remained closed for the moment. He, too, looked so happy in that instant. Even years on from now, when I was old and grey, I wouldn't ever forget the expression of pure bliss and contentment on his face. Until his eyes suddenly snapped open and he stared me.
"I'm sorry – "
"What're you saying sorry for?" I demanded, unable to keep the slight tone of frustration out of my voice.
"After what you have just been through tonight, Rosie, I wouldn't dream of taking advan – "
But I cut him off, placing a finger over his lips before placing my hands on either side of his neck.
"James, this is the most wonderful and romantic thing that has ever happened to me, so please don't go spoiling the moment with apologies," I begged him in a whisper.
James relaxed, letting out a sigh almost in relief that he had not frightened me off for good. He placed a tender kiss on my forehead, and I closed my eyes at the contact, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his lips on my skin.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he murmured as he looked at me through hooded eyes. I quirked an eyebrow at him in surprise.
"How long?" I asked curiously.
James leaned forward to press a feather-light kiss to my temple. As he did so, he asked softly, "How long have we been friends for now?" The timbre of his voice near my ear sent electric sparks dancing down my spine.
"Uh...when we first had tea together back in...March, I guess?" I manage to stutter out. His sheer closeness was almost rendering me incoherent of speech.
James looked almost shy for the first time as he confessed, "Since I first invited you to have tea that day in March then."
I was so taken aback by this admission that I couldn't speak and had me almost crying. So I had been worrying about him not feeling the same way as me for nothing? What an idiot I am! I reached out to lightly trace my thumb across his bottom lip and across his handsome cheek.
"Same here," I whispered, realising this for the first time. James smiled brilliantly, the gesture sending my heart somewhere to the vicinity of my knees. He shook his head and chuckled in amusement.
"What a pair of damned fools we are..."
I laughed, leaning forward to engage him in a light kiss before I rested my forehead against his, feeling so dizzyingly happy right now I thought I might burst with the feeling.
"I can't imagine your dad is going to be happy when he finds out about this," I said after a moment.
James sighed, and I could feel his breath tickle my face. "I have no doubt...but I do not much care what he thinks," he added stubbornly.
"Yes, you do," I said quietly, "Why else do you let him talk to you the way he does?"
I knew that James did his best trying to do right by and please his father but half the time, Mr. Nicholls spoke to his son like he was some silly little boy who did not know his own mind. During my visits into their era, he did not seem to be happy unless he was putting James down in some way. And as if that wasn't enough, he did it in front of others too – Major Stewart, Georgina, myself... I didn't know how James could put up with it at times.
I saw James frown, his jaw set, a crease forming between his brows. With a slight edge to his tone, he asked me,
"Can we please not talk about my father?"
"Sorry..." I apologised, squeezing his hand to let him know I did not mean any offence. At his reassuring smile, I leaned my head against his shoulder, my eyes drifting closed. The pair of us fell into a companionable silence. I could feel James now stroking my hair, those deliciously long fingers buried in my jet-black mess.
"You like the monster then, do you?" I asked him smilingly, my eyes still closed.
"The what?" he asked with a little laugh. I opened my eyes.
"When I was a kid, I used to pretend that a hairy curly monster had attached itself to my scalp and wouldn't let go. It's a bit of a pain in the bum, my hair..."
"You should have seen my hair when I was child," he joked. "I had curls which could rival that of a lion's mane."
I couldn't help but giggle at this mental image of James as a little boy. "Awww! I bet you looked adorable!" I teased, inwardly squealing at the thought. "I've often been tempted to have my hair all chopped off – "
"No, please don't!" James said quickly, sounding shocked. When I stared up at him, he added sheepishly, "I think your hair is lovely."
"Oh, you silver-tongued charmer, you," I teased, though I flushed a little at the compliment.
The two of us sat there at the kitchen table together, hands intertwined, our fingers doing a little dance all of their own. Time did not seem to have any meaning while I was in James' company.
"I suppose I had best be getting back or I will be missed," he whispered after a while, though he sounded most reluctant about it.
I didn't want him to leave so soon, but then I told myself to stop being so pathetic. I was going to see him tomorrow at Georgina's party. Once we were back in my room and I had opened the door for him, before he left, he turned back to face me, his forehead creased in slight concern as he asked quietly, "Are you going to be alright?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Mum'll be home soon, I'm sure."
"Oh, by the way...Gina wishes to know – or rather 'frantic' would be the better word to use - if you have had any success in finding an outfit for her party yet?"
"As a matter of fact...yes, I have," I said proudly, patting the plastic protective cover which was hung up on my wardrobe door, obscuring Delilah's wonderful creation from view. As James made to have a look, I held up a forefinger. "Ah-ah-ah, no peeking, mister!" I told him playfully, lightly poking him on the chest. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow."
James feigned a look of disappointment before he smiled.
"Until tomorrow, then," he relented.
"Oh, and if you see Major Stewart, you can tell him that Alice will be coming as well." Provided of course she hasn't got a hangover, I thought to myself.
"She has consented to come? That's splendid news. I am sure Jamie will be most pleased to hear that...even though he won't admit it," he added with a mischievous grin.
I returned his grin, and then, with a boldness I didn't know I possessed, I reached out a hand to hook my finger around one of his braces, tugging him towards me. Taking the hint, James gave me a sly smile, bent his head down to kiss me again, our lips meeting eagerly this time. As his hands came to rest at my waist, tugging me against him, it was all I could do to stop my knees from buckling. How did such an awful, disastrous evening turn into such a perfect one?
"I wish you pleasant dreams tonight, my dear," he whispered against my lips.
Oh, I knew exactly what I was going to be dreaming about tonight. The incident with Michael seemed like a lifetime ago now. I was still shaken up by the whole ordeal...but my actual knight in shining armour had come along to banish those terrible memories away...
"Goodnight..." I whispered to him.
I watched James step through the door and make his descent down the stairway until the darkness swallowed him up and I could see him no longer. Beaming from ear to ear like an idiot, I closed the door after him and locked it, turning to lean my back against it.
All of a sudden, I heard a buzzing noise coming from my pocket and then the sound of my mobile phone ringing. Staring at the screen, I saw that it was Alice calling me.
"Hello?"
"Rosie? Rosie - Babes, what happened? Are you okay? Is everything alright?" came Alice's frantic voice at the other end, bombarding me with questions.
"I'm fine," I told her once I was able to get a word in."Everything's alright... Actually...everything's better than alright."
I hope you enjoyed the chapter, my beautiful readers! And yes, I know, they kissed at last! :D
I couldn't resist the image of a little boy James having curls; I was watching Cranford recently and I just love Tom's curls in that, they sort of beg to have your fingers buried in them. Hnng. Oh and did anyone spot my itty-bitty reference to Loki? :) hehe.
Next chapter...it's partaaay tiiime! Until next time, darlings! Please don't forget to review!
PS: I've started to get some ideas for a story focused solely on Major Jamie Stewart involving a modern OC but in reverse. After going to see Star Trek Into Darkness (how amazing is that film?), I had a huge dose of Benedict Cumberbatch feels and I feel that the Major deserves some love as well. Would any of you lovely people be interested in reading that? Your feedback would be most appreciated! :)
Xx