Timeless (A Time Travel Romance) Page 14

  The servant dipped into a curtsy. “I been feeding him regular, my lady, and he’s a healthy child, for all he’s still tiny. My milk’s the best, everyone around here reckons that.”

  Robyn’s hands were shaking as she held out her arms. “Give the child to me.”

  The nurse placed the tiny white bundle in Robyn’s arms. The baby was wrapped so tightly that only his face was visible. His eyes were screwed shut, his skin appeared red and wrinkled, and his mouth was pursed, ready to cry at a moment’s notice. As Robyn closed her arms around him, he suddenly blinked and opened his eyes.

  He stared up at her with a blue, unfocused gaze. Robyn stared back at him, while her heart turned somersaults inside her chest. This infant was truly newborn, no more than a few days old. And during her delirium, she had fantasized about giving birth to a baby boy.

  The baby soon got tired of staring. His eyes squeezed shut. His mouth opened wide and he let out a loud, angry cry, a bellow that changed almost at once into a thin, high wail. The sound tore at Robyn’s nerves and ate into her guts, making her frantic with the need to appease the baby’s obvious discomfort. Something wet and warm spattered onto her hand and she realized it was milk, dripping out of her nipples onto the baby’s swaddling bands. Without stopping to reflect on what she was doing, without a thought for William’s continued presence, she pushed aside the folds of her robe and held the baby to her breast.

  He felt warm and damp in the crook of her arm, a tiny weight that seemed to fill a gap the size of the universe inside her soul. He rooted around for no more than a second or two, then latched on to her nipple and sucked greedily. The release of pressure inside her breasts was so wonderful that Robyn almost cried. She leaned back, resting her head on the winged corner of the chair, stroking the transparent fuzz of silky hair on the baby’s head. The strands felt soft, softer than anything she had ever felt in her life before. Unable to prevent herself, she bent over and nuzzled her cheek against the top of the baby’s head, aching with the need to be close, to feel the baby’s skin in contact with her own. The baby stopped sucking for a second, lost her nipple, and started to cry.

  She laughed because he looked so ridiculous, so totally adorable, with milk bubbling on his lips, his eyes puzzled, and his cheeks turning scarlet with frustration.

  “What a fierce little fellow you are to be sure,” she murmured, rubbing his back until he calmed down and let out a milky burp. “Here, try the other side and maybe we’ll both feel more comfortable.”

  For several minutes Robyn was oblivious to everything in the room save the steady sucking of the infant at her breast, and the corresponding relaxation of tension inside her. Gradually, as the pressure of excess milk eased, she became aware of the silence in the room, and the odd, waiting tension emanating from William and the nursemaid. She ignored them both, reaching inside the swaddling bands to loosen them so that the baby’s diminutive hands could poke out and curl around her fingers. She gazed at his nails, hypnotized by their minute, pink perfection, and rubbed her thumbs across the roly-poly softness of his wrists.

  The baby fell asleep, breathing heavily, sated with milk. Her milk. She eased him away from her breast and held him up to her shoulder, rocking gently as she patted his back. She had half a dozen nieces and nephews, and at one time or another she had helped out by rocking every one of them to sleep. The motions she was going through with this tiny infant were familiar. The sensations rioting inside her were totally new.

  A burning log split into two, tumbling into the grate with a clatter and a shower of hot orange sparks. She glanced toward the sound and saw that William had moved to stand in front of the fireplace. His booted foot rested on the fender and he was gazing at her, his eyes dark, his face wiped utterly clean of expression. Somehow, despite his outward appearance of complete self-possession, she knew that inside he was seething with a mass of unresolved emotions. She stared back at him, meeting his gaze head-on, forcing herself to look at him—really look at him—for the first time.

  Like Zach, he was quite tall, she guessed more than five-ten, but less than six feet, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His hips were hidden by the full skirt of his coat, but his legs were long and showed to definite advantage in the silk stockings and knee breeches he was wearing. Despite his fancy getup, she had no doubt that he was truly Zach’s brother. Now that she looked at him closely, she could see many similarities to Zach, not only in his straw-blond hair color and penetrating blue eyes, but especially in the strong, square thrust of his jawline, and in the narrow, aristocratic bridge of his nose. His mouth, too, was like Zach’s, firmly drawn but sensuous, promising both passion and tenderness to some lucky woman. It wasn’t at all difficult to believe that he was Zach’s brother.

  The baby hiccupped, and Robyn closed her arms protectively around him. William’s gaze flickered to the child, then returned to Robyn.

  “I did not expect you to feed the child yourself,” he said, breaking a silence that was still thick with an odd sort of tension. “I trust that your generosity today will not make it more difficult for you to stanch the flow of your milk tomorrow.”

  “Why should I stanch the flow, as you put it? Don’t you want me to nurse the baby myself?”

  She had the satisfaction of seeing that for some reason her question had totally amazed him. He drew in a deep breath. “I had not even considered the possibility that you would nurse the child yourself. You have never been willing to play nursemaid to any of your other children. In fact, you said on several occasions that the thought of a mewling infant tugging at your breasts disgusted you. It did not occur to me that you would be willing to change such strongly held convictions.”

  His words pierced the lethargy that had suspended Robyn’s thought processes and lulled her into placidity while she nursed the baby. Belatedly she realized that her situation had passed over from bizarre into the realms of total and utter fantasy.

  She had just spent twenty minutes nursing a newborn infant.

  For a moment she felt fear, fear so deep and enveloping that her heart seemed to stop beating. Then, just before the fear could consume her, she realized that there was only one possible explanation for what was happening to her.

  She was dreaming.

  She half expected to wake up the moment the realization hit her, as so often happened with dreams. But this time, for some reason, she remained sleeping and the illusory world of her dream remained intact.

  Even so, the realization of what was happening left her limp with relief. Robyn relaxed in the chair, settling into her dream, willing to endure the experience now that she knew what was happening. She stared at William, amazed at the intriguing workings of her subconscious. Why in the world had she conjured up such an extraordinary man? What was her subconscious trying to tell her?

  “You know, you really are a strange fantasy,” she said. “Why have I given you Zach’s body, his brother’s name, and a character that seems lifted straight out of The Scarlet Pimpernel? And why have I given myself a baby, for heaven’s sake’? If you’d asked me when I’m awake, I’d have said I wasn’t all that interested in having children for at least another three or four years. I think of myself as a dedicated career woman.”

  She gave a rueful chuckle. “Hey, maybe this dream is trying to tell me something.”

  The nursemaid leaned forward and snatched the baby from out of Robyn’s arms. “Her ladyship’s talking the devil’s talk again, my lord. Please, my lord, you must send word to the parson and have him come to her, or she’ll fetch trouble to us all.”

  Robyn yawned, then wondered why she felt so sleepy in the middle of a dream. “Honest to Pete, I don’t know where all this crazy stuff is coming from. Why do you suppose I’m fantasizing about a dour nursemaid who’s full of ignorant superstitions?”

  “If you are asking me that question, Arabella, then I fear that I cannot answer you.” William put his arm around her waist, drawing her to her feet. “Come, my dear, you must re
turn to your bed and rest. I will bring you dinner myself and see if you are recovering your wits... your strength... as you should. Perhaps nursing the baby was too much for you. Women of high birth have delicate constitutions, and I should not have allowed you to overtax your resources. It could be dangerous to the equilibrium of your mind.”

  Robyn frowned. “William, you’re a pain in the rear end, you know that? You’re most definitely not behaving the way you should. Heck, this is my dream, I want to have more control over it.” She chucked him under the chin. “Why don’t you smile and show me what you look like when you’re in a good mood? I think you might be quite sexy if I could ever get you to smile.”

  The nursemaid spoke low-voiced from the doorway. “Do you need me, my lord? I don’ want to stay with her ladyship when she do go on so crazy like. Frightens me, ‘er do.”

  William nodded impatiently to the maid. “I have said that you may go. Take the child back to the nursery. I will tend to the Lady Arabella.”

  Robyn scowled. “I’m not Arabella, I’m Robyn.”

  William slipped the robe from her shoulders and lifted her into the bed. “Whoever you wish to be, my lady, you should sleep and recoup your strength.”

  Robyn scowled. “Why won’t you behave the way I want you to behave? Why can’t I control the figments of my own imagination?” A worrying thought occurred to her. “Maybe I’m not sleeping. Maybe I’m unconscious. Big time, long-term unconscious, which is why I can’t wake up. Maybe that bullet penetrated my skull and I’m hooked up to machines and everyone thinks I’m a vegetable. Maybe that’s why this dream is so weird and out of control.”

  “I certainly don’t think you’re a vegetable, Arabella. I know that you are a beautiful woman.”

  She laughed, deciding not to fight with the vagaries of her own subconscious. “Right, that’s me. A very beautiful woman. I’m blond, blue-eyed, and I have long slender legs with great thighs, just like I always wanted. You know what, Willie baby? I shouldn’t complain. On second thought, this dream is getting better.”

  William didn’t look amused. “On the contrary,” he said curtly. “I fear that from my point of view it is fast turning into the most horrible of nightmares.”

  Chapter 7

  Robyn knotted a linen band around baby Zach’s tummy and tugged at it doubtfully. Her efforts to secure a diaper around the baby’s bottom without benefit of sticky tabs or even old-fashioned safety pins were proving less than a hundred percent successful.

  “This is a stupid dream,” she muttered. “You’re not supposed to worry about loose diapers in the middle of a dream.”

  Baby Zach—she wasn’t quite sure at what point she’d mentally given him that name—stared at her out of unwinking blue eyes for a full ten seconds, then the sound of a creaking tree bough distracted him. His gaze wavered and his hands flailed helplessly. Startled by his own movements, he began to cry.

  “Ah, my lady, give him to me!” The nursemaid rushed forward. “He is moving too much, like I warned your ladyship. Look at his poor little hands beating the air, and his innards ready to fall right out of his belly if you do not wrap him more closely!”

  “Nothing will fall out of his belly,” Robyn said, picking up baby Zach and rocking him gently. Even though she knew she must be dreaming, the baby felt so real she couldn’t help responding to him just as if he were truly there and in need of her protection. She knew she had been curt with the nurse, so she tried to make herself sound more friendly.

  “Annie, stop worrying and the baby will be fine, honestly. I have lots of experience with little babies. My brother and sister each have three, and I’m considered a major family resource for baby-sitting.”

  “Your—um—sister, m’lady?”

  “Yes. My sister.” Robyn spoke defiantly, although her stomach sank. She knew what was coming.

  Annie shuffled her feet uncomfortably. She cleared her throat. “My lady, you don’t have no sister and you never have taken care—”

  “Don’t argue with me,” Robyn snapped. “This is an order, Annie. You’re not to wrap the baby in those tight bands. It’s dangerous, you’ll constrict his circulation.”

  “My lady, I been looking after little ones for nigh on ten years, and I know as how they can’t survive if you don’t keep them tightly wrapped around the belly. Terrible gaping holes I’ve seen in a baby’s belly if he ain’t bandaged up right and proper.”‘

  “You’re talking about infections of the umbilical cord, which baby Zach is much more likely to develop if you never let any fresh air touch his body—”

  “Zach, did you say? Short for Zachary? Did the master agree as how the baby was to be called Zachary, my lady?”

  “Er... not exactly. William and I haven’t yet discussed the question of the baby’s name—”

  “I heard the housekeeper say as how he’s to be christened Arthur, in honor of his grandsire. Your father, my lady, a very good gentleman, may he rest in peace.”

  Robyn sighed. “I told you, Annie, his name has not yet been discussed.” She heard the note of irritated authority in her voice and reflected ruefully that it was all too easy to slide into the habits of the people around her. If she wasn’t careful, before long she’d be throwing hairbrushes at any servant who dared to contradict her.

  The thought was so absurd, Robyn found herself smiling. What the heck, she might as well make the nursemaid happy. She took a square of soft woolen cloth, folded it into a triangle, and tucked it around baby Zach to make a neat, cream-colored papoose. “There, how’s that for a compromise package? He’s all tucked in, but he isn’t half-strangled. That’s how my sisters always wrapped their newborns. Look, he’s settling down already.”

  Annie sniffed. Her subservience quota seemed several notches less than the rest of the servants and she watched with evident disapproval as Robyn hugged the baby, patting his back in soothing rhythm. A wonderful, peaceful lethargy settled over Robyn as she felt the baby snuggle against her and drift off to sleep.

  “He’s happy as a clam,” she said, smiling toward the servant, anxious to make amends for the snippiness of her earlier mood. “You see, he liked having a bath after all.”

  Annie refused to be mollified. “Aye, m’lady, I’m sure he did. Happen that’s why he screamed fit to raise the roof all the time you wus washing him.”

  Robyn grinned. “Well, now that the trauma is over, I’m sure he’s glad to be clean and sweet-smelling. He’ll get used to being bathed eventually.”

  “That’s as maybe,” the nursemaid muttered, stepping forward to claim the baby. “I will return him to the nursery, my lady, so that you can rest. ‘Tisn’t good for a babe to be jostled around the whole time. He needs to lie flat in his cradle and give your milk a chance to settle in his innards, otherwise he’ll be screaming with the colic come nightfall.”

  Robyn chuckled. “Annie, I promise you, he won’t get colic and I want to keep him with me. We can rest very comfortably sitting here by the fire together, enjoying each other’s company. The baby likes being here, see? He’s smiling.”

  Annie was clearly getting ready to point out that newborns never smile, when, without warning, William strode into the bedroom. He nodded to the nursemaid. “You may leave us,” he said. “I will send for you when her ladyship needs you.”

  “Shall I take the baby, my lord?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Robyn’s arms tightened around the baby, but she managed to speak quite calmly. “No, you will not take the baby, Annie. As I told you two minutes ago, I wish him to remain here with me. You may go.”

  Annie looked nervously toward William. He nodded briefly. “Of course, if the Lady Arabella wishes to keep her son with her, you may leave the baby in her care.”

  Annie curtsied and backed out of the room. Once William had endorsed the instruction, it seemed that she was perfectly satisfied to leave the baby, Robyn noted, feeling irritated. She was getting tired of the way the servants responded to William’s
slightest nod, while treating her like a moron who needed to be saved from her own folly.

  “You look downright bad-tempered,” she said to William, noting with perverse satisfaction that she spoke the absolute truth. Her mood improved, and she flashed him a bright smile. “My, my. What’s happened to put you into such an obvious temper?”

  He glanced at her once, then turned away. “I understand you were insufferably rude to Dr. Perrick this morning.”

  “Did he say so? Actually, in the circumstances, I thought I was extraordinarily polite.”

  William frowned. “You informed him that you would not drink his ridiculous potions and that you did not wish him to act as physician for you or your children ever again. Is that not so?”

  “I did say that, and I’m impressed with my self-restraint,” Robyn agreed cheerfully. “In retrospect, I’ve no idea how I managed to got through our entire interview without once telling the man that he is a pompous, incompetent idiot.”

  William looked at her in silence. For a moment she had the oddest impression that he wanted to laugh. He cleared his throat. “The doctor also told me that you plan to get dressed tomorrow and go downstairs. I feel sure that in this, at least, he must be mistaken.”

  Robyn smiled at him mockingly. “Aha, are you troubled by the prospect of my escaping from this room, William, my love? What will I find when I manage to get outside the bedroom door? I wonder. Electricity? Telephones? Even a computer or two?”

  “You will find your home,” William said quietly. “Nothing more and nothing less. But please answer my question, Arabella. I wish to know if Dr. Perrick has understood you aright. Do you seriously contemplate leaving this bedchamber tomorrow morning?”

  “Why yes, that’s my plan. Do you have any objections, my lord? Not that I plan to pay any attention to them, of course.”

  “Most certainly I have objections. You are but eight days removed from your lying-in. It would be preposterous to speak of ending your period of confinement, even if you had not suffered the additional injuries to your head. You are not in a fit state to leave your sickbed, Arabella.”