Ask a Shadow to Dance (18 page)

“Yes, at the fountain.”

“I’ll try. My father had a seizure at supper tonight. But he seems to feel better now. More at peace. I should be able to leave him for a short while.”

“I’m sorry.” He frowned, concerned, then his expression changed. His jaw tightened and he frowned again.
Anger this time.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is Westmoreland still bothering you?”

So that was it. “He tried to convince me he was sorry for hitting me and promised never to do it again. Perhaps he means it, but I don’t think so. He wants to marry me.”

David’s face turned red. He closed his hands into tight fists.

“I could never marry him, David.”

“Listen to me, Lisette.” He took a step closer and put his hands on her shoulders.

His touch caused exquisite tingling, just as she’d imagined it would.

“Men who abuse women don’t just stop doing it. You can’t believe anything he says. I know what I’m talking about.”

She shivered from the brisk night breeze, which was stronger now, and from his hands gripping her shoulders. She could actually feel each of his fingers through the flannel, warm and intense.

“You believe me, don’t you?”

“Of course.
You’re a doctor. You know about such things.”

With feather-lightness, he stroked her bruised cheek. “I hate the idea of that man touching you ever again.”

“I pray, too, that he never shall.” Once more, she felt flushed and alive. David’s hands, so soft and gentle, and his eyes, burning with concern and something else she could not identify, warmed her as no quilt ever could. “Doctor Stewart, I feel as if I’d known you much longer than a few days.”

“Call me David, please.”

“Very well, David. It is my dream, after all. Tell me about the place where I saw you in my last dream. The clinic. Is it here in Memphis?”

“It’s in Memphis, but not the Memphis you know.”

“Is there another?”

He took her hand and led her to the window. “What do you see?” He pulled her back against his chest with his arms crossed in front of her. She placed her hands over his and laced her fingers with his. He smelled of some wonderful cologne, making her dizzy and warm again. “What do you see?” he asked again, brushing his lips across her cheek.

“Memphis, of course.”

“In what year?”

“You must be joking. You certainly know as well as I do what year it is.” This dream surprised her. She never would’ve imagined such a question.

He turned her around so they were face to face. “Indulge me.”

His eyes were the color of the sea. “Very well. It is Wednesday, the eighteenth day of November, in the year of our Lord, 1885.”

He appeared excited, almost agitated. “Then it’s all true.”

“Really, David, why would I lie to you? Even in a dream?”

Still holding her, his arms around her back now, his thumb tracing lazy circles up and down her spine, she felt light-headed.

“Only three days until the
Cajun Star
leaves for New Orleans.”

“Why is that important? Are you leaving on the
Star
?” She shivered again with the thought of not seeing him again. He couldn’t leave now. They were just getting to know one another.

David released her, closed the window,
then stared into the night for a moment. “Lisette, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here tonight. If I disappear in front of your eyes, don’t be frightened.”

“Why should I be frightened? It’s only a dream.”

“Yes, a dream. Even so, you must come to the Peabody tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“Ten o’clock. I’ll have something to show you.”

“Can’t you show me now?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t bring it with me tonight. But I’ll have it tomorrow.”

“What could it be to cause you to be so serious?” She felt bold and trailed her fingertips down the line of his jaw; she saw him react to her touch with what could only be desire. It made her breathe faster, sent new warmth all through her body. Never in her life had she elicited such a response from a man.

“It’s a newspaper article.”

“How interesting.
Tomorrow, then.”

“Now, you must get some sleep so you’ll wake up in the morning in time to meet me at ten.”

“How can I go to sleep in a dream?”

“Just try.” He fingered errant curls at her temples, reminding her he was seeing her for the second time with her hair loose, in nightclothes. He held her face between his hands as though he were holding a priceless gem. “I wish I could stay. I don’t want to leave you.”

“Do you have to go? There are so many questions I want to ask.”

“Ask me tomorrow. I don’t want you to dismiss this as something you imagined.” He pulled something from his pocket with paper inside, tore off a sheet, and took a pen from his pocket unlike any she’d ever seen. He wrote something on the paper.
“A reminder. So you’ll know it’s real.” He placed the paper on the table beside her bed, laid the pen beside it, then stared straight ahead for a moment, his eyes glazed as though in deep thought. “He’s calling me back. Not yet! A few more minutes!”

“Who?
I don’t hear anyone—”

Without warning, he pressed his lips to hers, astounding her completely. If awake, she would have been obliged to slap his face, but since it was only a dream, she circled his neck with her arms and returned the kiss. It was disturbingly delicious and gave her such an extraordinary feeling, she gasped when his mouth moved to the slope of her neck. His hand at her nape massaged and caressed, then worked downward, pressing her against his chest, circling on her back. Then his mouth settled on hers again and his tongue parted her lips. Her response came so swiftly, she moaned. Pleasure and desire moved through her and into him, then back again. She threaded her fingers through his hair, along his scalp and felt him tremble. Eager to experiment, she touched her tongue to his lips, then pushed into his mouth, and heard him groan.

She felt almost faint. He looked straight into her eyes and whispered, “I came through time for you, Lisette.”

All pretense of a dream vanished. “You’re real. And you’re here in my room. It isn’t a dream, is it?”

David hesitated before he shook his head. “The only part resembling a dream is the unhappy fact that I can’t stay with you. You’re very much awake, just as I am. I don’t want you to dismiss everything that’s happened here, thinking it isn’t real.”

“I should order you from my room before Aunt Portia discovers you’re here.” Please, God, let Aunt Portia be sleeping, she prayed.

“Are you going to do that?”

“No. Not unless …” She felt absolutely daring and touched her lips to his again. He leaned forward, but she leaned back, teasing him. He smiled.

“Unless what?”

“Unless you refuse to kiss me again before you have to go.”

“I could never refuse you anything.”

Her knees felt weak. She sank onto the side of the bed, bringing him with her. David took his time, just as she hoped he would. His hands roamed over her body, scarcely touching, yet leaving a trail of warmth wherever his fingers explored. She abandoned all thoughts of what was proper and gave herself completely to the sensations streaming through her. Never had she imagined kissing and touching could be so intoxicating, so addictive.

He became bolder in his exploration of her body. His hand slipped inside her gown—when had he released all those buttons?—and caressed her bare breasts. She thought she might faint, her breathing had become so erratic.

David’s lips on her eyes, shoulders, mouth, his hands stroking her breasts, left her breathless and anxious for more.

David withdrew suddenly, easing away, worry creasing his forehead, his eyes glazed again.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something to displease you?”

He recovered quickly, smiled and kissed her again, as passionately as before. “You could never displease me, Lisette. But I have to leave now.”

“Leave? But you can’t! How can you just leave after kissing me, touching me this way?”

“He’s calling me back.”

“Who is calling? There’s no one else here.”

“Be at the Peabody tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. I’ll explain everything then.”

There seemed to be nothing she could do to change his mind. Her throat tightened. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“You will tomorrow. Promise you’ll come, then close your eyes.”

“I promise. David?”

“Yes?” He stroked the hair back from her face, his touch so gentle she could scarcely feel his fingers against her cheek.

“How can I be sure you’ll come back?”

“When you close your eyes, I’ll meet you there.”

She kissed him, desperate to keep him from leaving. When she opened her eyes, he was gone. She tasted the salt of her own tears.

Chapter Eleven

“Damn it, Bob! Why did you have to call me back? I was there! I can’t believe—”

“David, calm down. I’ll explain—”

“You’d better have a damn good reason—”

“You stopped breathing.”

David halted his tirade and took several deep breaths. “Completely?”

“Damn near it, Bro.”

He looked at Joe for the first time since Bob had brought him out of the trance. Joe’s face was so pale, and David realized he must have been in real jeopardy for Joe to be that spooked. David tried to stand, but swayed with a sudden bout of dizziness. Bob grabbed his arm and lowered him back to the couch. He dropped his head between his knees and tried to regulate his breathing. The trance must have taken him deeper than any of them expected. But he’d made it. No matter what had happened, it was worth every precious minute he’d spent with her.

“Now, David, I want you to relax and listen to the tape.”

“The tape?” He’d forgotten. When he sat up, the dizziness came back.

“If you aren’t going to keep your head down, then lie back on the couch until you’ve had a chance to recuperate.”

He did.

“I have to tell you, David, I never expected this hare-brained scheme to work. When it did—and your breathing and vitals diminished the farther back in time you went—I wondered if I was going to be able to bring you home again.” He went to a cabinet behind his desk, pulled out a bottle of brandy and three glasses and filled each of them halfway. Joe took one. Bob handed another to David. “Here. Drink this.”

He sipped the brandy, which burned its way to his stomach, and pivoted on the couch until he was flat again. He had to admit it felt better than having his head swim like a drunken sailor.

While the tape of the session played, David relived it in his mind, supplying Lisette’s voice where blanks occurred on the tape. By the end, his voice was so weak he could see why Bob and Joe had been insistent on calling him back. Did that mean he was close to the point of no return? Was that possible? What would “the point of no return” be?
Death? Permanent residence in the nineteenth century? Joe’s voice was on the tape too, with language unusual for him. Frantic and insistent. Thinking he was about to lose a brother.

“That’s when we lost contact. You stopped talking—and your respiration was down to four a minute.” Bob leaned back in his chair, reached for his brandy and finished it, then steepled his fingers.

“Four?” Incredible. When he kissed her—and she kissed back. Damn.

Bob leaned forward. “David, what happened after that last part on the tape? You almost didn’t come back.”

Joe got up, cleared his throat noisily. “I think I have a good idea. You were close to her. Weren’t you?”

“Not as close as I wanted to be.”

Bob went to his desk. “I’m not sure planting that suggestion about dreaming was such a good idea, David. To tell you the truth, I’d be afraid for you to go under again without someone there. I’d like to erase the suggestion.”

David sat up, testing his equilibrium to see if the dizziness had passed. “It isn’t necessary. She’s going to meet me at the Peabody tomorrow at ten. It was on the tape, remember?”

Joe dragged a chair closer to the couch and sat down. “Are you sure she’ll believe it enough to come?”

“I wrote her a note so she’d have proof I was there. I used the back of a deposit slip and a ballpoint pen. There’s no way she can explain that away.” He gave Bob a hard look, wanting him to believe this had actually happened. “I was there, Bob.
Body and soul. How is that possible? I never believed I’d be able to touch her and have her feel it. I figured I’d be like a hologram, you know? Form but no substance. But there was plenty of substance. It doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“No, but who am I to question the power of the human mind? In another moment we might have lost you. You might have been lost to this century—”

“— alive in hers? Is that what you’re saying?”

“There isn’t a rational explanation for what just happened, David. It’s my feeling that your mind created the whole thing. You imagined you were there, you imagined her, everything. I have to say that’s what happened, because my training doesn’t support any other conclusion. It’s impossible to confirm you actually went back in time. It’s entirely feasible you fabricated everything, and you’ve been fabricating since the first time you saw her.”