Chapter 11 #4
Alexander had warned her, begged actually, to stay far away from the tunnels and the cliffs and she’d agreed easily.
She had no desire to tempt fate, as it were.
Though she and Alexander had been separated much of the three months they’d been together, she considered the times they were together as some of the best of her life.
Sure, she missed home and the twenty-first century. Who wouldn’t? She’d had what some would call a dream life. A gratifying career, with major accomplishments and accolades. Beautiful homes and any luxury she could want.
She missed her father, of course, but she missed him in the twenty-first century too.
Robert, she did not miss. She was sorry he was dead, but better him than her.
So really that left only Samantha. Her one true friend.
And yes, she missed her dearly. But she kept her close by sharing stories about her, and them, with Alexander and Stephen, and even Callie.
She absently fingered the keys of the piano while watching for a sign of Alexander from the hallway. He was a man of his word, if he said they would start and finish their conversation later, they would.
She just worried for his safety. He was walking a fine line between America’s Patriots and Britain’s Loyalists, and every time he was gone, she racked her brain for everything she could remember from history classes long ago, trying to figure out what was going on—and what would happen soon—based on the year.
She truly never felt fully at ease unless she could see him, touch him. And when he was home, God bless the man, he was the best husband and friend. She knew he worried about the same things; he’d told her he feared she’d be gone as suddenly as she’d appeared.
She walked to the window overlooking the back of the property, the rocky cliffs, and churning sea.
When he wasn’t home, she found herself here in the evenings, hand pressed to the glass, watching for his safe return.
She turned when she heard his footsteps coming toward her, and held out her hands in a come here motion. He smiled.
“Wait for it…” he teased, turning toward the sideboard. He poured a scotch and joined her by the windows. A place they often found themselves on such nights as these.
He kissed her soundly, his large hand cupping her head. Then he turned her. As she felt him behind her, she relaxed against him. His arms circled her waist, his chin rested on her head. And as he did most nights, he eased her fears, sometimes just with the cadence of his voice.
He began pointing at the stars in the sky then, telling her again how learning of their placement helped him navigate most of the seas.
How by applying mathematical laws and those of physics he could chart his course.
That lunar cycles had effects on the water’s currents.
He spoke of having a sense of lights from ashore, those that beckoned to harm, and those that guided him home.
She told him how she’d studied dance and classical piano.
That losing her mother at a young age had left such a deep void that she hadn’t known how to fill it.
That even though her father had thrown himself into his work and remarried, she knew he loved her more than anything.
She told him of her friendship with Sam; how they’d met, supported each other as though they were sisters, and some of the antics they’d been involved in.
He told her of family duty. His arranged marriage. The joy of his daughter and the anguish of losing his son. That being wealthy and titled, achieving a coveted rank, did not bring the joy people assumed.
They would always be sitting on the floor by the time they’d talked themselves out. Alex leaning against the window with Amanda between his legs, leaning against his chest. They’d finish the ever-present glass of scotch, letting it sit empty beside them.
Now he held his hand out for her. “Play something for me,” he asked.
Amanda loved playing for him. Another thing she could do for hours—play and tell him all about music: classic and contemporary, composers and artists, songs and genres. She couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do right now.
As Amanda walked to the piano, Alexander refilled his glass. She knew he felt better, or lighter, as he would say, for having someone to share such things with. And she knew they were things they’d never shared with another.
He crossed the room and joined her then, taking a long pull of scotch as he leaned against the piano, running his finger along the rim of the glass.
She reached for the glass, which he extended to her with a smile.
If someone had told her she’d enjoy drinking scotch one day, she would have told them they were crazy.
Knowing it was Alexander’s drink made it taste amazing.
Sometime later they’d walk hand in hand upstairs to bed. Callie would occasionally come in in the middle of night and snuggle right between them. Amanda couldn’t remember ever being so content.