melted and became a hot glow. “Yes, I will.”
His face blurred; she bit her lip to stop the tears. “But yesterday you accused me of having another secret beau.”
“The bounder!” His expression altered. “You must make allowances for him, Minerva. He loves you passionately, but his pride has always been his downfall.”
“Stop it! Stop it!” Shielding her ears, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Stop talking as if…as if—” The frantic beat of her heart echoed in her ears. Choking, she dropped her hands to her lap. “I must be losing my grip on reality, because I’m starting to believe you.”
“Sweetling, I wish I didn’t have to burden you like this, but time is running out. I need your help.”
Sweetling . His endearment, which he used in all his letters, made her heart tumble over. She gazed at him anew, noting the subtle differences between this Asher and the man whom she’d surprised yesterday. Feature by feature they were identical, but when she looked into his eyes the distinction was unmistakable. In this man she saw poignant regret in his gaze, the look of an injured soldier returning from the battlefield.
Reaching out, she brushed the tips of her fingers over the roughness of his cheek. It couldn’t be true. It had to be madness. Her rational brain railed against the impossibility, but in the end logic was no match against the heart.
“How can I help?”
* * *
As Asher spoke of what had to be done, Minerva’s face drained of all color. When he was finished, she protested. “I cannot ask him to do that. It’s too much! This is something he’s been laboring over for years. How can I ask him to throw it all away?”
Her blue eyes flashed with indignation. How she must care for the man, Asher thought. His jaw hardened against the unexpected pang of jealousy. Utterly ridiculous to be envious of himself. But there it was. He couldn’t deny it. She still loved that pig-headed man despite everything.
“You forget it’s my work too. I know full well how much blood, sweat and tears I’ve poured into it. How much it’s cost me—” He broke off, reminded of how his invention had come between him and Minerva when he’d falsely accused her of colluding with her father to steal his idea. Five years he’d spent separated from her. Blasted invention! How much more pain would it engender?
Minerva sat clasping and unclasping her fingers, her brow wrinkled in thought. “There must be another solution, some way in which Asher can continue—”
“No, this is the only way.” He grasped her hand urgently. “The safest way.”
Even through the glove her hand felt cold. “But why must it be this way? You haven’t fully explained the consequences. What will happen in eight months’ time if we do nothing?”
For a brief moment he shut his eyes. Weariness gnawed at him like a rat. During the past fortnight he’d barely slept, and he found himself longing to gather Minerva into his arms and fall into a deep slumber.
He shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”
“But why? Is it so terrible? Does…does something happen to you?”
Sweet Minerva, always concerned about others. No, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the full horror of the future from whence he came. She deserved the truth, but he was too much of a coward to reveal it.
“Sweetling, I implore you to put your faith in me,” he said softly, “and trust in what I’m asking of you.”
Solemn-eyed, she regarded him, weighing up his words, and eventually she squeezed his fingers. “You do know that he won’t believe me. He’ll think I’m mad. It would be so much easier if you simply confronted him. Then there could be no argument.”
“I’m fearful of what might happen if he and I came face-to-face. I’ll be honest with you. The theories of chronometrical travelling are simply that—theories. Untested and unproven. If the Asher of today were to meet me, who knows what cosmological damage we might cause to the
His face blurred; she bit her lip to stop the tears. “But yesterday you accused me of having another secret beau.”
“The bounder!” His expression altered. “You must make allowances for him, Minerva. He loves you passionately, but his pride has always been his downfall.”
“Stop it! Stop it!” Shielding her ears, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Stop talking as if…as if—” The frantic beat of her heart echoed in her ears. Choking, she dropped her hands to her lap. “I must be losing my grip on reality, because I’m starting to believe you.”
“Sweetling, I wish I didn’t have to burden you like this, but time is running out. I need your help.”
Sweetling . His endearment, which he used in all his letters, made her heart tumble over. She gazed at him anew, noting the subtle differences between this Asher and the man whom she’d surprised yesterday. Feature by feature they were identical, but when she looked into his eyes the distinction was unmistakable. In this man she saw poignant regret in his gaze, the look of an injured soldier returning from the battlefield.
Reaching out, she brushed the tips of her fingers over the roughness of his cheek. It couldn’t be true. It had to be madness. Her rational brain railed against the impossibility, but in the end logic was no match against the heart.
“How can I help?”
* * *
As Asher spoke of what had to be done, Minerva’s face drained of all color. When he was finished, she protested. “I cannot ask him to do that. It’s too much! This is something he’s been laboring over for years. How can I ask him to throw it all away?”
Her blue eyes flashed with indignation. How she must care for the man, Asher thought. His jaw hardened against the unexpected pang of jealousy. Utterly ridiculous to be envious of himself. But there it was. He couldn’t deny it. She still loved that pig-headed man despite everything.
“You forget it’s my work too. I know full well how much blood, sweat and tears I’ve poured into it. How much it’s cost me—” He broke off, reminded of how his invention had come between him and Minerva when he’d falsely accused her of colluding with her father to steal his idea. Five years he’d spent separated from her. Blasted invention! How much more pain would it engender?
Minerva sat clasping and unclasping her fingers, her brow wrinkled in thought. “There must be another solution, some way in which Asher can continue—”
“No, this is the only way.” He grasped her hand urgently. “The safest way.”
Even through the glove her hand felt cold. “But why must it be this way? You haven’t fully explained the consequences. What will happen in eight months’ time if we do nothing?”
For a brief moment he shut his eyes. Weariness gnawed at him like a rat. During the past fortnight he’d barely slept, and he found himself longing to gather Minerva into his arms and fall into a deep slumber.
He shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”
“But why? Is it so terrible? Does…does something happen to you?”
Sweet Minerva, always concerned about others. No, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the full horror of the future from whence he came. She deserved the truth, but he was too much of a coward to reveal it.
“Sweetling, I implore you to put your faith in me,” he said softly, “and trust in what I’m asking of you.”
Solemn-eyed, she regarded him, weighing up his words, and eventually she squeezed his fingers. “You do know that he won’t believe me. He’ll think I’m mad. It would be so much easier if you simply confronted him. Then there could be no argument.”
“I’m fearful of what might happen if he and I came face-to-face. I’ll be honest with you. The theories of chronometrical travelling are simply that—theories. Untested and unproven. If the Asher of today were to meet me, who knows what cosmological damage we might cause to the
Similar Books
