Xavier lost all of his color, too. Then, his jaw tight, he snapped, “I do not know how you even know her name, but it is not a name ever to be raised in this household again.” He was so upset, even angry, that he was shaking.
“She is upstairs, and she said she is not a ghost—that she never drowned,” Sarah insisted shrilly. But she was watching him very closely.
Xavier was, for one of the few times in his life, immobilized. She could not be upstairs. That was an impossibility. She had disappeared—she had, as everyone aboard theConsitutionclaimed, fallen overboard and drowned. He had never recovered from her death.
Sarah wet her lips. “She is upstairs in your bedroom.”
His pulse pounding with unmerciful force, Xavier strode across the salon and took the stairs three at a time. His pace increased as he moved down the hall. His door was open. He stumbled.
Alexandra stood in the center of the room, her red hair rioting around her face, clad in a farmer’s clothing—the loveliest sight he had ever seen. He could not move. He could not breathe. He could only stare and pray he was not dreaming.
“Xavier,” she whispered.
His heart began to beat again. “Dear God, please—are you a ghost?”
“No, I am real,” she said.
He moved. He reached her in two strides and threw his arms around her, only to find her warm and strong and wonderfully alive. Tears fell from his eyes and down his cheeks as he lifted her off of her feet and hugged her, whirling her around. She sobbed, laughing, clinging.
He slid her down his body to the floor, acutely aware of the feel and scent of her, and cupped her beloved face in his two hands. Their gazes locked. “Where have you been?” he demanded hoarsely. “Dear God, Alexandra, I allowed everyone to convince me that you had drowned!”
“I know,” she said as huskily. “Xavier, forgive me. I didn’t mean to, but I traveled through time again—I went home, to the future, to 1996.”
He was taken aback. His palms slipped to her shoulders. “That is impossible.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Did you fall overboard? There was a Sicilian schooner in the area. We hailed her the next morning, but her captain claimed he had not picked anyone up. Perhaps you were so angry with me that you did not want to see me ever again?”
“No,” Alex said firmly, flatly. “Listen to me, Xavier, look into my eyes. You saw me disappear. Remember very carefully what happened that night. Yes, I was enraged to learn about Sarah. I have never been so angry in my life. My rage transported me through time—away from you—just as my love has brought me back.”
Xavier shook his head. “I recall you disappearing, fading, actually, before my very eyes. But we were both exhausted—I imagined it …”
“No!”
Xavier grimaced, then swept her up against his chest, holding her tightly there, one of his hands in her hair. “I don’t know what to believe, Alexandra,” he finally said, his tone rough with emotion. “I only know that I love you more than I have ever loved anyone, man or woman, and that I cannot lose you again. That living without you has been joyless, a pretense, a sham.”
“I love you that way too,” Alex whispered against his hard, brocade-clad chest. The lace from his shirt tickled her nose. “I can accept the fact that you are married,” she whispered.
He set her a few inches back so they could regard one another very carefully. “It is you I love, and yearn for, not her.”
“Really?” But the truth was there, shimmering in his eyes.
“Yes. But I cannot cast Sarah aside. When Robert went to sea on his last voyage, I promised him that I would take care of her should something ever happen to him. He loved her the way I love you, and she is not well. Divorce is not a possibility, no matter how much I wish it were. She is my duty, Alexandra.”
Tears filled Alex’s eyes. “I understand. And this is one of the reasons I love you so. Were they married?”
“Affianced.”
She nodded, brushing her eyes. So much joy—so much pain. “I wanted to return to you, Xavier, even knowing that you had a wife. That is how much I love you.”
His eyes closed, his face was stark. When he opened them Alex saw the anguish in his gaze. “Alexandra, darling, you deserve more, you deserve a free man who can marry you. You—”
She laid her palm against his mouth. “Shh. No. I want only you. I will be your mistress. I will have your children. Lots of them.”
His eyes widened, and then he crushed her to him. They rocked. They were both crying. Finally he cupped her face and kissed her, long and deep. When they drew apart, they stared at one another. Desire, red-hot and almost visible, coursed between them, around them, filling the room.
“This is not acceptable,” Xavier finally said, stroking her hair. “Sarah is downstairs.”
