With a whoop of excitement, she snatched up her cellphone and held it to her heart like a talisman. She tapped the black screen, it blinked on, and she saw what she’d expected. No signal. She thanked God she’d charged the phone before leaving that day 208 years in the future, and scrolled through the options menu. She tapped her photo album. Smiling, she clicked through until she came to one of her leaning against her Nissan. The phone itself was proof enough, but the photo of her and her “electric carriage” would be icing on the cake.
For the first time since arriving in 1817, she was happy. Something finally went her way.
Gathering a few other items from her bag, she wondered where she could find the duke. His study was her best bet.
She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when she handed him her phone. She’d have to bite her lip to keep from shouting, “I told you so!”
Hell, she’d say it anyway.
Logan lookedup from his ledgers at a knock on the door. This day was one event after another, but at least the vicar had rescheduled their meeting. What he wouldn’t give for a glass of brandy, a long ride in the night air, and sleep without those damn dreams.
Those dreams…something familiar on the tip of my memory….
He shook his head to dispel the gathering fog.
“Come.” Perhaps Harry had returned and needed another night of solace in the refreshing haven of Caspire Manor.
Unexpectedly, a face intruded upon his mind. How much of a haven would the sensuous body of Miss Haven Edwards be? Pushing aside the rising heat, he swallowed around the lump in his throat. He stood to greet his friend, but his smile stalled when the door opened.
Speak of the she-devil....
Miss Edwards walked toward his desk, shoulders back, chin out, and a wicked light glimmering in her eyes. Despite what she’d endured over the last thirty-six hours, she’d thrived and cleaned up rather well. The blue of her gown looked stunning against her bronze-kissed skin. It brought out the bright green of her irises, and the dark silken strands of her hair. The cut emphasized her narrow waist, the abundance of her breasts, andher long legs. He suppressed a moan. The Romany clothes he’d found her in didn’t do her justice.
She was a beautiful woman.
Beautiful women were dangerous.
“Miss Edwards, how can I help you?” Would she notice how husky he sounded?
She stopped at his desk, planted a hand on the swell of her hip, and held out a small red bag. It had several pockets and a strange metallic lip around a large opening on the top.
She smiled, and it nearly undid him. “Here it is, the proof I need to convince you I’m not crazy.” Thunderstruck, it took him a moment to focus.
Proof? What could she possibly mean? He held his tongue as she rummaged through the bag. Her face shined, relief and excitement evident on every feature. Her eyes, especially, were bright and fiery.
Glorious.
With a look of triumph, she pulled out a tiny black box. “This is my cell phone. It’s a communications device.” He must have looked as confused as he felt because she explained, “In 2025, we use this to communicate with people over long distances. I could be in Philadelphia, and you could be here, and I could still talk to you as if you and I were in the same room.”
He fought the overwhelming urge to snatch at the box. The skeptic and realist in him wanted to scoff at her and her silly box, but the curious wonderer hoped she was telling the truth.
Without preamble, she walked around his desk, cell phone in hand, and stood beside him. She tapped the object, and it began to glow. The blood drained from his face, pooling in his Hessians.
What was this thing? Unthinking, he reached forward.
With a brilliant, triumphant expression, she turned the box for his inspection.
He took the cell phone and was surprised by its density. He gasped. Inside was a small window full of colors, moving pictures, and words. He hesitated to touch it, scared that the minute he placed his fingers on it, the pictures would go away, leaving the wonder and awe hollow in his chest.
“Please explain.” Getting any more words past the large dry patch in his throat proved difficult.
She drew up to stand inches from his side. Her chest rose and fell against his arm, which made it difficult to concentrate on the device when he really wanted to explore the woman beside him.
Exhaling to rid his senses of her scent, he focused.
“This little window is called a screen. I use it to navigate through the features on the phone.” As he held it, she touched the screen with her finger. He couldn’t believe it. Not only were there moving pictures on the screen, but the screen itself moved, bringing entirely different scenes into view. Marvelous.
“When I press here,” she said, indicating a small cube-shaped icon, “I can bring up digital pictures, which are kind of like portraits except they aren’t painted. They’re recorded using a tiny machine inside the phone.” She glanced up at him, and grinned. His breath caught. Her smile transformed her face from sultry vixen to playful minx. He didn’t know if he liked what the playful minx was doing to his blood flow.
