Chapter Three
“The police are looking for you about the broken window of the electronics store,” she told him while they walked. “They want to talk to you.”
She could see his smile in the streetlight, slightly mocking, amused.
“Tis better if they don’t find me.”
“Why is that?” she asked, a little mesmerized by him.
“Because they would not find me in any of their databases. I have no I.D.”
“Why not?”
“I cannot get one as I have no proof I am me.”
Hmm, yes, that could grow into a big problem. She watched him when they came to a Salvation Army Santa Claus ringing a bell.
Sebastian’s smile shone full force.
Noelle swallowed. “Your past,” she said, trying to calm her ridiculously fluttering heart. “Tell me about it.”
“I was a baron, the Baron of Surrey. I was…ehm…known for robbing some things. Here and there.”
She put five dollars in Santa’s bucket. “Great. A thief.”
“What is great about it?” he asked, following her example and pulling a twenty from his wallet.
“I was being sarcastic. I must be nuts,” she muttered quietly. “Here I am going for mochas with a guy who claims he can time travel.” She turned to look at him. “And where did you say you’ve been hiding all this time?”
“I was not hiding,” he told her, that subtle smile still hovering about his lips.
“Not at first. I was struck by a car the night we first met. I passed out in some alley and was picked up by the police and brought to the hospital. I just got out two weeks ago. I had been, as they say, busted up good.”
“You were in the hospital all this time?”
He nodded. “But I’m better now.” He lifted his arm and bent it upward, the way a man does when he’s showing off his muscles.
Then, realizing she couldn’t see the full glory of it through his coat, he plucked her hand up in his and patted it against his hard biceps.
“They took good care of me and I made many new friends. Harold taught me about the world.”
“Harold?”
“He’s from Bulgaria. At first, it was hard for me to believe. I’m twenty-seven and I’ve never met anyone from so far away. He came here with his grandfather when he was a boy.”
He told her about Harold while they walked to Starbucks and stepped inside.
The first thing Noelle noticed was that every eye went to him. Those eyes were mostly female. She smiled when she noticed that he hadn’t noticed at all. He was busy looking up at the menu.
He read…and read, and then turned to her. “They all sound delicious.”
“What have you had before?”
“None of them. I have only been out of the hospital a week and half. My roommates bring me coffee from Starbucks sometimes, but I haven’t been here myself until now.”
She ordered a Grande Peppermint Mocha for him and a Grande Toasted White Chocolate Mocha for her and then found them seats, where he continued to tell her about Harold. “He’s a good guy. Not like Preston, or any of the stately lords I knew once.”
“When did you come here from England?”
“Two months ago. The night I met you.”
“The night you traveled forward in time?” she asked quietly and then finally smiled at the barista who kindly brought them their drinks.
“I don’t blame you for not believing me—oh, heaven help me. Have you tasted this?” He took another sip, closed his eyes, and groaned out the kinds of sounds that made Noelle blush.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Try mine.”
He did and groaned again. She wondered if she’d asked him to try her drink just to hear him.
“I’ve never had anything like this before.”
She enjoyed watching him enjoy his drink. Was it possible? Had he never come to a Starbucks before?
“So this Preston is…was a lord?”
“Aye. Was. I killed him,” he told her proudly. “Why do you go pale?”
“You…you killed him?” she asked horrified.
“Aye. He deserved it. Everyone else was too afraid of him—”
“Look, Sebastian. Maybe this was a bad idea. You should really go talk to the police, and maybe a psychiatrist.”
“It bothers you that I killed Preston?” he asked a bit incredulously.
“Of course it does! You can’t just take the law into your own hands.”
“What law?” he asked. “I don’t know all the laws here. They are different from back home. But he deserved it.”
“Only God gets to give us what we deserve,” she said and sipped her mocha.
Thankfully, he didn’t argue.
Was he for real? She still had doubts. Had he killed someone in England or here recently?
She took out her phone. “What did you say Preston’s full name was, with his title?
” She also pressed record, without him knowing.
She couldn’t believe she hadn’t done it sooner.
It was as if he laid waste to her rational thoughts.
“Lord Preston Bristol III, Viscount of Sutton,” he supplied, then smiled. “Are you looking him up? I hadn’t done that.”
Of course he hadn’t. Why would he if he was lying and there was no Pres—
“Viscount Sutton, Preston Bristol III. Born August, 1696. Died August, 1724.” Fine, Preston Bristol was real. She scanned the rest of the article, to his death.
“Sutton was flung from the battlements of Croydon’s prison, Croydon Keep, by Baron Surrey, Sebastian Alexander, who later disappeared.
Alexander was a fellow member of Sutton’s society of highwaymen, known as The Horsemen.
But Sutton’s death was not the result of falling from the wall.
He died from a knife wound in his back.”
“That’s correct,” Sebastian told her with no remorse.
Noelle stared at her phone with her mouth open. Was this him? Baron Surrey, Sebastian Alexander? The article said he disappeared.
Anyone could have read this and pretended to be him.
“Is this supposed to make me feel better? You stabbed someone in the back and then threw him off the battlement wall?”
“But he was—”
“We have police and courts and prisons for that. And if you don’t know it, then you better learn our justice system. You can’t go around killing people you believe are bad. That’s called vigilantism and it will put you behind bars.”
“I will keep that in mind if I need to.”
Did his eye color just change a little? As if the shimmer of a golden veil passed over them. It sent a cold thread down her spine.
The chill brought with it a memory of being stalked last year. The guy found out where she lived and tried to contact her. He was arrested soon after that for a violent crime and imprisoned for a lot of years. She never wanted to go through that again.
“So, Lord Surrey…”
He smiled at her with eyes as green as freshly mowed grass. Who was he? What was he? Was something magical at work here? Something she could never explain, even with proof?
“Was our meeting a coincidence, or were you watching and came and found me?”
“I was watching,” he answered honestly. In fact, his warmed expression hadn’t changed. To him, there was nothing wrong with it. “Candace, my roommate, drove me over and dropped me off.”
“Okay, well, that’s not a good sign.” She sighed and grabbed her bag. She was going to call an Uber and get out of here.
“I came because I have been wanting to talk to you since—”
She held up her hand to stop him. He was going to say since he kissed her. She knew it. She didn’t want to think of it. This story was a waste of time. She would get hurt, and no one would believe it. “It’s fine. Don’t explain, really. I need to go.” She slipped out of her chair.
“Where are you going?” he asked, surprised.
“Home. Thanks for the coffee and the pretzel.” She smiled stiffly. “Have a nice life.”