My Heart Stood Still Lynn Kurland (some good books to read TXT) 📖

bearing down on them, waving a piece of paper over her head. Well, so much for their precious privacy. Thomas sighed and waited until Mrs. Pruitt had come to a full stop in front of him.

"Your company," she said briskly, handing the paper to him. "It's going under. You'll have to catch the next flight to New York."

Thomas took the piece of paper and read what was written there: Your company. It's going under. You'll have to catch the next flight to New York. Perfect, he thought grimly. Out of all the words in the English language and all the different ways they could have been put together, those were certainly the only ones that would have brought him running, and his company president knew it.

He looked at Iolanthe, who still stood with her back to him. He folded the paper up and went to stand behind her.

"I have to go to New York," he said.

"So I heard."

"Come with me."

She turned to look at him then. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "You must be mad," she whispered.

Maybe he was. He considered all the arguments he might use to get her to come with him, but the simple fact was, he would be putting her out in public for public consumption. He couldn't be lucky enough for everyone they encountered not to notice that she was a ghost.

Passport. She didn't have a passport.

And then another thought occurred to him.

"Ambrose came to America," he said, "and I'm fairly sure he didn't fly in a plane."

"A plane?" she asked. "Are those the metal birds that fly so high in the sky?"

"Yes," he said gently. "Up there a little higher than Mount Everest, which you steadfastly refuse to believe is as tall as it is. If Ambrose can do it, can't he show you how? You could meet me in New York. We could go to the theater. Walk in the park. There are a million things to do in the city."

She took a step backward, never a good sign.

"I couldn't."

"Couldn't?" he asked. "Or won't?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he wished he hadn't said them. He held out his hands to stop her from leaving.

"That was a stupid thing to say," he said quickly. "I can't blame you for being hesitant. New York's a huge place. Even I get overwhelmed there now and then."

She looked primed to vanish.

Thomas tried a smile. "Come talk to me while I pack?"

She shook her head. "I shouldn't. I understand the garrison is coming back soon. I should be at the keep when they return."

"But—"

She smiled, but it was the falsest smile he'd ever seen. "Godspeed, Thomas," she said. Then she vanished.

Thomas stood there for several moments until he realized the heavy breathing he was listening to wasn't his, it was Mrs. Pruitt's. He turned and looked at her. She was watching him with something akin to pity.

"Change never comes without price," she said sagely.

Change.

Thomas shook his head, then rubbed his hand over his face. He took a deep breath and blew it out.

"You're right," he said. "It's never easy."

"Easier for some than others."

Well, much more advice like that, and he'd be jumping off the parapet himself. He nodded, then walked back to the inn with Mrs. Pruitt. It took him only a few minutes to throw clothes in a bag, book a flight, and be on his way out the door with sandwiches Mrs. Pruitt had packed for his journey.

He paused before he got into his car.

But the garden on the side of the house was empty. As was the driveway.

He was tempted to go up to the castle, but that wouldn't have served him. If Iolanthe didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be. And what good would it do to talk anymore, anyway? There was fantasy, then there was the brutal reality of their situation. He didn't believe she didn't have feelings for him. He might love her, and she might love him, but that didn't change the fact that he was mortal and she wasn't. Talking wouldn't change that.

But it might change how they dealt with it. Not that he was overly fond of endless rehashing of relationship details, but he couldn't deny that something had to be done. They couldn't go on as they were.

But later. He would fix the disaster in New York, then he would come home and they would work it out.

And hope to heaven they could find a solution.

Chapter 20

It was two days before Iolanthe had the courage to go back to the inn. She knew Thomas wasn't there. She knew this because the garrison had returned from their holiday, demanded to know where she'd hidden him, then gone to look for him themselves. They'd returned from the inn, disappointed and empty-handed. It had left them wandering restlessly about the keep. She told herself that she walked down the road simply to have some peace from their grumbles. But in truth, she wanted to be somewhere Thomas had been, somewhere they had passed time together in a pleasant manner.

She missed him.

She walked slowly along the way in the late evening, up the little road to the inn and around to the back gate. The kitchen light spilled out onto the garden path. Well, at least someone was still awake. She walked through the door without another thought and then came to a teetering halt when she realized that her kin were entertaining.

A woman sat in the kitchen between Ambrose and Hugh, chatting with them easily, as if she knew them well. Iolanthe looked at her and noted immediately that she was mortal. Perhaps she was a frequent guest at the inn. But to be so familiar with her kin? There had to be another answer.

"Do ye let him do his work, gel?" Fulbert was demanding. "Ye know I've much to say to ye on the subject."

"He works plenty," the woman assured him.

"Ye'll answer to me if he doesn't," Fulbert warned.

"Leave off, ye bloody Brit," Hugh