Cyberevolution Book One: The Awakening: Fifty Shades of Dark Kaitlyn O'Connor by Kaitlyn O'Connor, Kimberly Zant, Marie Morin, Stacey St.James, Goldie McBride (15)

She didn’t know what to make of what had just happened. It was all just too bizarre to take in.

There seemed little doubt that Simon had been married to Liz. She might not know which of them was lying. She might not want to accept any of it, but it was painfully obvious that that much had been true.

And, if they had been married, and Simon had faked his death like Liz said, then they were still married.

She supposed it didn’t really matter if he was technically, still married. It hadn’t once crossed her mind that he would have any interest in marrying her. She had not even allowed herself to consider the possibility of a long term relationship between them. She’d just lived a day at a time, expecting it all to come to an end before long, knowing it must end as all things did.

Simon had said he couldn’t make any promises because of vows he’d made. He wasn’t a widower and he wasn’t a divorcee. He’d faked his death and now he couldn’t get a divorce even though they had not, apparently, been living together as man and wife for years.

She felt like a total moron. She had ached for him because of his tortured past, hurt that she couldn’t soothe his pain, and all the while he hadn’t been mourning a wife that had died. He’d just been worrying about the fact that he’d made such a mess of his life that he couldn’t, legally, marry again--he couldn’t give her what he thought she wanted.

The scars she’d seen, that she’d wondered about were probably from when he’d faked his death, she realized abruptly--if she believed that part, and Simon hadn’t denied it.

Maybe Simon had had another policy Liz hadn’t known about and that was how he’d gotten the money to start over? If he’d been that rich, he could’ve had money ‘hidden’ in any number of places, though, so it didn’t necessarily follow that Simon had faked his death with the intention of committing fraud.

As hard as it was to accept that Simon wasn’t the man she’d thought he was, she realized she did believe most of what Liz had said, partly because Simon hadn’t really tried to deny it and partly because it made sense of a lot of things that had been bothering her before that she hadn’t been able to understand.

She left the bathroom after a while, locked her bedroom door and fell limply across her bed, burrowing her face into her pillow.

She had not once thought that what Simon was hiding from her was anything like Liz had said. She found it hard to reconcile the man she’d believed she knew with the criminal Liz claimed he was. And god only knew what he’d done besides faking his death and, possibly, committing insurance fraud or at least providing Liz with the opportunity to. If he’d been desperate enough to plot such an elaborate ruse, it must have been about more than just money troubles. He must have felt the law breathing down his neck for something he’d been involved in. Murder?

She could not and would not accept that. Simon might have done a lot of things and kept her in the dark about all of it, but she was not wrong about the basic person he was. She knew that. He was kind, good hearted, generous, and protective of her. She wasn’t going to condemn him when she hadn’t even heard his side of the story.

She was hardly in any position to judge anyone, for that matter. She had done the best she could with her own life, and there were still things in her past that she was not proud of, things she’d felt she had to do to survive.

The important thing now was to figure out what, if anything, she was going to do.

She felt like crying when she thought about the baby. She hadn’t really had time to absorb the fact that it was there, and she’d learned a lot of things about Simon that horrified her, but it hadn’t changed the way she felt about him, and it hadn’t changed the way she felt about his baby.

She doubted that mattered, though, in the scheme of things. Simon had been discovered. She knew he would have to leave or risk going to jail. Either way, it seemed she was probably on her own and without the help she had thought she would get from Simon she didn’t think she could justify keeping the baby. She knew she couldn’t provide for a child. If she tried, it would only suffer. If she gave it up, it might have a chance at a better life and it might not. There were a lot of children, just like her, that never got adopted. Her personal experience with foster care had taught her it was worse in a lot of ways than living in an institution--which was a lot like jail. She’d only had one foster mother that she’d developed any affection for, and almost the moment she got attached, she was shipped out to another home.

It seemed cruel to even consider bearing a child knowing it would suffer, maybe even face torture and death if it landed in the wrong hands.

Finally, she got up and went to face Simon to hear what he planned to do so that she would know what she had to do.

She found him standing at the window, his back to the living room.

He turned to look at her when she came in and dropped onto the couch.

“Feeling better?”

“As opposed to what?”

He frowned, moving toward her. When she stiffened, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them protectively, he stopped. After a moment, he sat in the chair across from her, leaning forward and draping his arms over his splayed knees. “Look at me, Anna.”

She lifted her gaze and met his reluctantly. He looked as tortured as she felt.

“No matter what you think you know--none of this is what it seems.”

“She’s not your wife?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. She could see that he reluctant to even tell her that much. “Technically, no.”

“Because you faked your death?”

His lips tightened. “Because I was still married to someone else at the time I married Liz, which means we were never legally married at all,” he growled. “And I had nothing to do with the insurance fraud. I didn’t know she’d taken out insurance on me. I left plenty to provide for her. I may be a lot of things, Anna, but I do not shirk my responsibilities.”

Anna felt her jaw drop. “Oh my god! You think that makes it better? Jesus Christ! How many times have you been married? Do you even know who you’re actually married to?”

He got up and began to pace impatiently. “No one.”

“And you know this how?”

“Because my wife died,” he said harshly.

Anna stared at him, trying to fit the pieces together. “After you’d married Liz?”

He rubbed his forehead and finally raked his fingers through his hair. “I have to leave,” he said abruptly, ignoring the question, though Anna knew that would have had to be the case if what he said about not being married to Liz was true.

Anna’s face crumpled. She’d known it was coming and it still hurt worse than she’d thought it possibly could. She could scarcely catch her breath for the pain in her chest. “I know.”

He surged toward her, going down on one knee. “Come with me, Anna.”

Stunned, she could only stare at him while the words slowly sank in. “You want me to go with you?” She was insane, because just the fact that he wanted her to go with him made her happier that it would anyone who wasn’t a raving lunatic. He would be on the run. Even if she could face life on the run, she would only be a burden to him. Whatever he’d done, she didn’t want him to get caught because of her.

“Don’t think about it, Anna. I swear to you it’s not what you believe. We won’t be on the run. You won’t have to worry about ending up in jail. I’ll protect you.

And if we discover that it just won’t work out between us I’ll take care of you.”

She felt her chin wobble. “Oh Simon! How could you make such an awful mess of your life?”

“With amazing bloody ease,” he ground out. “At least consider it, I beg you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have to consider it.”

His face hardened. She leaned toward him as he started to rise and threw her arms around his neck. “I know I’m crazy, but I don’t care about your past. I only care about you. Please take me with you. I’ll just die if you don’t!”

His arms tightened around her. Settling on the couch, he pulled her across his lap, staring at her for many moments as if he couldn’t entirely believe she’d accepted his offer. “No doubts?”

She sniffed. “Worlds of doubt, but I’d rather be with you, whatever happens, than try to live without you.”

He pulled her tightly against him again, stroking her back, obviously deep in thought.

“When are we leaving?” she asked when it began to seem he wouldn’t say anything else.

“A few days, a week at most. I have arrangements to make.”

Anna pushed away and sat up. “Simon! We can’t wait that long! What if Liz goes to the cops?”

He shook his head, his lips twisting wryly. “I know Liz. Right now she’s trying to figure out the best way to turn this to her advantage. She isn’t going to risk me going to jail as long as she thinks there’s a possibility that she can extort money from me.”

She didn’t doubt his judgment of Liz’s character was accurate, but she still didn’t know if she could stand waiting and taking the chance that he would be caught. “Couldn’t we just go now?” she asked plaintively. “I’m afraid for you, Simon!”

He kissed her, his lips gentle as they moved over hers, soothing rather than passionate. He stroked her cheek with one finger when he lifted his head. “There are things that must be done. As soon as I’ve taken care of everything, we’ll leave, but I don’t want you worrying about it. I will keep you safe. I swear it.”

Anna shook her head in amazement. Except for being angry that Liz had interfered and worried that she might refuse to go with him, he didn’t seem the least bit unsettled by the turn of events. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

He shook his head. “Only one thing in this world truly terrifies me anymore.”

She frowned, wondering if he was worried and just hid it well. “What?”

“Losing.”

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

Despite Simon’s reassurances, Anna could not be easy in her mind. If it had been up to her, she would’ve closed the shop immediately and fled. Simon was adamant that they continue as before, though.

Each morning they went through the opening of the shop at the usual time. Anna’s worry over whether or not she was actually pregnant had fallen back to a distant second place in order of things to fret about in the wake of her discoveries about Simon and her worry that Simon might have misjudged Liz.

She couldn’t understand how he could go about his days as if nothing had changed.

She realized a few days later exactly how it was that he managed to remain cool and collected when she was a nervous wreck.

He had told her they would be traveling light and not to worry about packing up the things in the apartment. None of it was hers and she had no real reason to worry about it, but she found she couldn’t sit still. After Simon had disappeared for the third night in a row, she realized she was going to go stir crazy simply staring vacantly at the TV while she waited and wondered if he would come back at all.

She had to do something.

After collecting a few boxes from the workroom downstairs, she brought them back up to the apartment and set them down in the living room, her hands on her hips while she tried to decide what might be important enough to him to carry it with them when they left--assuming she really was going with him.

She still wasn’t convinced that she was. Despite the fact that he’d seemed so anxious that she go with him, she couldn’t dismiss the fear that he’d only asked because he needed to be certain she wouldn’t run to the police.

He should’ve known her better than that, but it was hard to escape the fact that he really didn’t trust her. If he had, he would’ve at least told her something. He wouldn’t have kept her completely in the dark.

If Liz had not caught him, she doubted she would ever have found out anything about his past.

Deciding after a thorough examination that the furnishings could not be very important to him, she began looking through drawers in search of things of a more personal nature she thought he might want.

There was nothing in any of drawers. After searching every single cabinet in the living area, she was baffled. The place looked like–a hotel room, not a home where anyone lived, but a place only to sleep. Except for the clothes Simon kept in the closet and drawers in his bedroom, as beautifully furnished as the apartment was, she had not been able to find a thing in it that could possibly be even remotely considered personal.

Even as poor as she was, as many times as she’d had to pull up roots and leave, and sometimes run, she had things she took care to carry with her, things of a sentimental nature.

He had been living a lie, but he had done so for many years now. How could he not have accumulated other things? It seemed to her that he would have done so for the purpose of establishing a life and a past, in case of need.

If he had, though, it was not in the apartment.

The memory of the night she’d followed Simon settled in the pit of her stomach like a corrosive acid. He’d had a key card to gain entrance into the wealthy neighborhood.

He didn’t live in the apartment, she realized. He had a home in that subdivision and he left her every night to go there.

Feeling weak and ill, Anna slowly wilted to the floor.

Did he have a wife there? A family?

Was that why he couldn’t just leave? He had to make arrangements for them?

She covered her face with her hands, trying to dismiss the thoughts as absurd, unbelievable.

But she would not have believed anything that Liz had told her if she had not seen the effect it had on Simon, if she hadn’t seen the truth in his eyes.

Rising abruptly, she strode down the hall way and into Simon’s bedroom.

No wonder there had been no vibes of another woman in his bed, she thought angrily as she moved to the closet and threw it open.

There were a dozen shirts and pairs of dress slacks, all new. Several of the shirts still had creases, as if they’d only just been pulled from a package.

Moving from the closet to his dresser, she pulled the drawers out and checked them. Without a great deal of surprise, she discovered that they were virtually empty, as well.

Was she seeing things all wrong, she wondered? What if he had been leaving every night to take things out of the apartment? What if he just didn’t want her to realize that was what he was doing until he was gone and it would do her no good to go to the police even if she wanted to?

She stared at the suitcase in the bottom of the closet for a long time before she moved toward it. Placing her hands on it very deliberately, she waited to see if any images would cloud her mind. When nothing happened, she frowned in concentration, trying to pull an image from it.

Like the call of a distant voice, too far away to understand, vague imagery drifted through her mind.

Settling the suitcase on its side, she tried to open it. Frustration filled her when she discovered it was locked. She was too upset to consider giving up, however. Rising, she strode into the kitchen and took a knife from the drawer.

She managed to nick herself with the tip of the knife twice before she popped the lock.

Inside was a stack of folders, each filled with papers, legal papers she supposed. There was also a velvet pouch.

Her stomach twisted into a knot even as she reached for it, but she could no more resist the need to know than she could’ve made her heart stop beating. When she had loosened the ties and poured the contents onto the folders, shock seemed to freeze the blood in her veins.

It was the necklace and earrings--Liz’s necklace and earrings.

It made sense in an awful sort of way. She never had really understood how Simon could make so much money when he seemed to have so few customers.

All the nights he’d gone out on ‘business’, he’d been casing places--at least a good part of that time Liz’s place.

The shop, like the apartment, was nothing but a front.

He was jewel thief.

* * * *

Five days after Liz walked into the shop, Anna and Simon locked the doors and walked out. Simon had only allowed her to pack one suitcase. It was no great hardship. She had so little worth keeping. Once she’d packed all of the things that Simon had bought her, a few of the better clothes she’d acquired for herself and even fewer mementos, she found that her entire life fit very neatly into one medium sized piece of luggage.

She was more upset about leaving her car. It wasn’t much and it looked worse, but it was independence and it represented security of a sort. She didn’t try to argue with Simon, though, when he said they would travel together in one car because she was still afraid that he would walk off and leave her without looking back … just as he had Liz and god only knew how many other women.

She was not only a little surprised when he drove straight to the airport, she was abjectly terrified. She had never been on a plane in her life and she had absolutely no desire to.

“We’re flying?”

The note of barely leashed hysteria in her voice must have communicated itself to him. “Anna! I’m so sorry. I should have thought about the fact that you’d probably never been on a plane before.”

He reached for her, embracing her briefly. “It’ll be all right. I’ll be with you.”

Anna nodded jerkily, trying to keep her teeth from chattering with fear, but she felt weak all over and had to struggle to catch her breath. “Should we park here?”

“This is the area for private planes,” he said, getting out and moving around to open the trunk. By the time Anna managed to get her spaghetti legs to hold her up, a man wearing some sort of uniform had appeared.

Anna’s first thought was that he was airport security, or something equally frightening. He took the bags from Simon, however, and headed across the tarmac toward a waiting jet.

It didn’t look nearly as big as Anna thought it should. “We aren’t going very far?” she asked uneasily as Simon ushered her up the long flight of rolling stairs.

“To England.”

Anna whirled so fast she almost fell in at the door. The man who’d carried the luggage up steadied her.

“Would you like me to serve cocktails while we’re waiting for take off, Mr. Weston?”

“Anna?”

Anna stared at him, too petrified to move. “What?”

“Would you care for a cocktail?” Simon said soothingly. “It might help settle your jitters.”

“With alcohol?”

“That’s one of the things usually found in a cocktail,” Simon murmured with amusement.

She was tempted to ask for something straight up, anything, but it occurred to her abruptly that she wasn’t supposed to drink alcohol. She was pregnant.

She shook her head. “Maybe some juice, if you have any?”

“What type of juice, Miss?”

He’d called her miss. Anna was so stunned to be called Miss so formally that she was slow to react. “Whatever you have,” she said, nerving herself to look around the plane.

It didn’t look anything like she’d imagined a plane would look.

He named off a list.

“Orange juice,” she answered absently, turning to Simon as he placed a hand along her back and ushered her deeper into the plane. “Where are the other passengers?” she whispered uneasily.

He sent her a look of amusement. “There are no other passengers.”

She settled in the large stuffed chair closest to her. “We’re traveling alone?”

“Except for the pilot, co-pilot, and the steward.”

She leaned toward him as he sat down in the seat beside her. “You rented a whole plane?” she whispered.

“I own the whole plane,” he whispered back.

Alarm went through her. “Simon! This isn’t a--you stole a plane?”

He looked torn between amusement and annoyance. “No, Anna. I bought it.”

“Just for this trip?”

The question startled a chuckle out of him. He leaned across to kiss her briefly on the lips. “Stop worrying, all right?”

She was fairly certain that she left permanent impressions of all ten fingernails in the arms of the chair when the jet took off. It was almost worse when they became airborne and she felt her stomach take a freefall. Bubbles of air formed in her ears as they lifted high into the sky and kept climbing.

“Just keep swallowing,” Simon suggested, noticing her distress. “The pressure will equalize.”

It didn’t, not really. And the fear didn’t actually abate either. Every time she began to relax a fraction, the plane hit an air pocket and a fresh surge of fear-inspired adrenaline went through her until she began to feel ill. The sense of motion she felt didn’t help either. It threw off her equilibrium so that she had to struggle constantly with a sense of disorientation and dizziness.

Simon got up when the pilot told them it was safe to take off the seatbelts, collected a newspaper from a rack on one wall and settled down again to read. Anna remained as she was, attached to her seat, clinging to the arms of the chair.

“Would you like to lie down?”

She glanced at Simon at the question. The suggestion was tempting, but she thought she might feel worse, not better. Finally, without waiting for an answer, he got up, unfastened her seatbelt and led her to a door at the rear of the plane. She saw when he’d opened it that the end of the plane had been made into a bedroom. After showing her the workings of the bathroom, he left her again.

She sat perched on the edge of the bed for a while after he’d left, certain she couldn’t rest even if she tried to lie down. Finally, she decided to try. To her surprise, lying down did make her feel a little less ‘seasick’. She lay for what seemed like hours listening to the air rushing around the plane outside, every mechanical creak and groan of the plane, and the distant roar of the engines, tensing every time she noticed a fluctuation in air speed, her mind void of thought beyond her keen awareness of being miles in the sky. After a while, though, exhaustion overcame fear and she drifted off.

She roused slightly when Simon came in some time later and got into bed beside her, cuddling her close and then drifted away again until he roused her when he got up.

There was concern in Simon’s voice when he came in again later and tried to rouse her, but Anna ignored it, rolling over and snuggling deeper into the comfort of unconsciousness.

The bucking plane yanked her out of neverland abruptly. Her eyes flew open, her fingers curling into the mattress like claws. A few minutes later, the door to the bedroom opened. Simon stood braced in the opening.

“Still with us?”

“Very funny,” Anna snapped shakily. “What was that?”

“We’re descending. The air’s a little rougher. You should come up front and buckle in.”

“We’re landing?” Anna gasped, both surprise and hopefulness in her voice.

“It’ll be a while yet--at least an hour.”

She sat up, holding her head. She felt as if she had a hangover. “How long did I sleep?”

“About ten hours. I was beginning to worry, but I suppose you needed it.”

Embarrassed, Anna moved to the edge of the bed, looking for her shoes. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” she mumbled. “I guess it caught up with me.” And it couldn’t have done so at a better time as far as she was concerned. She didn’t know how she’d managed to sleep, exhaustion not withstanding, but it was a true blessing that she’d managed to stay unconscious throughout most of the frightening ride.

She rather thought she was going to have stay in England whatever happened between her and Simon. She didn’t think she could face another trip across the Atlantic--unless they decided to build a bridge.

His gaze was anxious when she glanced at him. “If you want something to eat, you need to get up.”

“I don’t think I can eat until I’m on the ground again.”

She could see he wasn’t pleased with the statement, but he left again. Staggering across the room, she took care of her needs and then braced herself against the sway of the plane to wash her face and brush her teeth. She felt better when she left the bathroom, still sluggish, still hung over, but better.

It didn’t last. As soon as the plane began to descend toward the runway to land, she was fully terrorized all over again. As anxious as she was to get off and feel solid ground beneath her feet, Simon had to hold her up when the plane at last coasted to a stop and they were allowed to get off.

It was probably just as well that she was in such a state, otherwise she might have given something away when they went through customs and Simon very calmly produced passports for both of them. Since she looked ill, and Simon had already pointed out that she wasn’t feeling well, they seemed to accept her vague, stammered answers without suspicion.

She waited until they were in the car and leaving the airport before she asked Simon any of the questions that had been clamoring to be asked. “You had a passport made for me?”

“You had to have one. That was one of the arrangements I had to make before we left, the proper paperwork.”

It wasn’t proper, though. It couldn’t have been. Uneasiness swept through her. She hadn’t thought about much of anything after the confrontation with Liz and the discovery of the jewelry except that she didn’t want Simon to leave her. She’d thought it wouldn’t matter to her that they would have to be on their guard all the time.

It mattered. She’d spent her whole life trying to stay on the right side of the law to avoid trouble. It was going to be harder than she’d thought to live looking over her shoulder.

Another thought occurred to her that was almost as unpleasant. She hadn’t realized until the plane was already in the air that Simon was taking her out of the country and she’d been too scared since to consider anything besides crashing and burning.

She was in another country, though, a place totally alien to her. What was she going to do about the baby? She would have to have a doctor. She didn’t have a car anymore. She couldn’t just drive herself to a clinic, even if she could find one.

She was going to have to tell Simon about the baby.

She hadn’t actually intended to. She’d figured when she couldn’t hide it anymore and he figured it out that that would be soon enough to have to deal with the confrontation that would ensue.

And, if he dumped her, she wouldn’t have to worry about a quarrel at all.

After driving for about an hour, Simon pulled off and ushered her into a pub for a bite to eat. The food wasn’t familiar and Anna still felt vaguely ill, but she managed to eat enough to satisfy him.

When they were on the road again, she asked him where they going--not that it mattered. She wouldn’t know anything about the place. Knowing the name of the town wouldn’t help her to know where she was.

“My estate.”

She frowned, unfamiliar with the term. They were in the country, though. “Like a farm or something?”

He threw her an amused glance. “Something like that.”

It wasn’t anything like that. She didn’t think too much of it when he turned off of the highway and passed through a tall set of gates. She wasn’t even particularly curious when she saw the huge building looming on a rise in front of them. “Is that a hotel?”

“It’s a castle.”

Anna’s head swiveled toward his profile sharply. “Really? They still have them here? I thought--well it doesn’t look that old.”

He sent her a wry glance. “It’s old. It was completely renovated less than twenty years ago, though. The plumbing and wiring are both up to date.”

Surprise filled her when he drove right up in front of the enormous building and parked the car.

A man dressed in a suit opened the massive front door and crossed the stone porch at the front as Simon got out of the car and moved to the trunk. More slowly, still stunned to discover they were apparently staying in the place, Anna got out of the car.

“My lord! We didn’t expect you until this evening. Did you have a good trip?”

In a state of shock, Anna turned to stare at Simon as he moved around the car and headed toward her. “A very good trip, thank you, Clancy.”

Almost as if she had found herself in a dream, Anna’s gaze moved slowly from Simon to the façade of the castle that loomed over them. Her gaze was caught by the distinctive arches of the row of windows above the front entrance, and she wondered why they seemed so familiar. It occurred to her after a moment that they seemed familiar because the front entrance of Liz’s house was amazingly similar at least in that the arched windows were virtually identical in design. “I can’t go in there,” she whispered as Simon slipped an arm around her and urged her toward the stone steps.

Simon frowned. “It’s all right, Anna. I promise you.”

A shudder went through her. “You don’t understand. I can’t go in there. There’s too much here, too much.”

Simon’s arm tightened supportively. “Maybe you should lie down for a little while? You look pale.”

She clutched at him as if he were her only anchor as she felt the warmth of his nearness, too stunned to put up more than a token resistance as he guided her up the stairs toward the main entrance, her mind too chaotic to summon another protest. Even as they stepped inside, however, the building itself seemed to swallow her and she felt herself falling into darkness.

* * * *

Her knees had begun to feel as if the bones were pushing through the skin and into the stones beneath her. What she was doing was not just wrong, it was wicked, the blackest of sins and she shuddered to think of what punishment she would face for such a thing. She had been pretending to pray when all the time her mind had been caught up in the deception she had been unwillingly dragged into. She shifted again, wincing as needles of pain shot through her thighs.

She was trying to decide whether to interrupt the tryst, or stay where she was when the distant sound of a horn jolted through her abruptly. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest for several moments before it commenced to hammering wildly against her chest wall. Otherwise it seemed as if her entire body had turned to stone like that beneath her, cold, hardened.

Focused now on the sounds outside the chapel, every other sense seemed to recede. Sounds seemed magnified. The thundering of her heart was supplanted by the thundering of many hooves.

The shock that held her dropped away as suddenly as it had seized her. She leapt to her feet, crossed herself and then dashed toward the back of the chapel to the wooden door just left of the altar. Outside the sounds were growing louder and louder even as she began hammering on the wooden panel with her fist. “Anne! Anne!”

When there was no answer, she grasped the latch and shoved against the door. To her surprise, it flew open on its leather hinges, banging back against the wall.

The sight that greeted her rooted her to the floor once more, unable to think or speak.

They were entwined. Her naked legs were curled around his waist, her head thrown back, her face twisted as if she were in pain as he pounded into her. She groaned, a sound of rapture not pain.

“He is coming! For the love of God, Anne! He is coming!”

He slammed against her again, shuddering, groaning. His mouth covered hers in a fierce kiss. Finally, he allowed her to slide to the floor and stepped away. Slowly, Anne’s eyes opened. A throaty giggle bubbled from her lips. “So he is.”

Shock went through Elspeth. She could scarcely comprehend the magnitude of her sister’s blasphemy. “Are you mad?”

Adjusting his clothes, her sister’s lover threw her a cocky grin. “I must be away then,” he murmured. “Anon, my love.”

* * * *

Anna found herself lying in a canopied bed in a strange room when she opened her eyes, and yet it seemed oddly familiar, too. As she stirred, she heard movement nearby and turned to see Simon had risen from a chair across the room. He strode toward her. His face was drawn as he leaned over her, stroking her cheek lightly with his fingertips. “Feeling better?” he asked gruffly.

She searched her mind for a reason for his concern and realized she didn’t recall how she’d come to be in the bed or in the room. She felt lethargic, but not in the way of someone upon waking from sleep. “What happened?”

His gaze moved over her face almost like a caress. “You fainted.” He hesitated. “Is this something that happens often?”

Anna shrugged, twining her fingers through his before he would withdraw. “I’ve had blackouts before, if that’s what you mean.”

She saw his throat work as he swallowed. A smile that was more than a little forced curled his lips. “You must not do it anymore. It scares the hell out of me.”

She chuckled dutifully, searching his face for some clue of what was bothering him. “There’s nothing wrong with me, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just the gift. Sometimes there’s just so much coming to me at one time it--overwhelms me.”

The explanation did nothing to reassure him. He seemed to debate with himself for several moments. Finally, he lifted her hand, brushing his lips lightly along her knuckles. “What would you like to do now? Rest? Or take a tour? We have time to do a little of either before we dress for dinner.”

Dress for dinner? Anna thought uncomfortably. They were supposed to dress up special to eat? Or did he mean they would be going out?

She smiled with an effort. “I think I’ve rested enough for a while,” she said wryly. “I’d like to explore if you want to.”

“The house? Or the grounds?” he asked, helping her off of the bed.

The idea of getting outside for a short while instantly made her feel better. “Outside,” she said promptly.

“There’s a lift down the corridor a bit,” he said as they left the room.

Anna glanced at him. She didn’t especially like the idea of climbing inside a box suspended by cables. “I’d just as soon take the stairs.”

She discovered when he’d led her to the wide staircase that they were on the third floor. Huge portraits lined the wall at intervals. She didn’t get the chance to actually study them since she had to pay attention to the steps, but she glanced at them curiously as they passed, noting that the clothing the subject of each portrait was wearing seemed to leap from one century to the next as they progressed, descending through time with the last, on the ground floor garbed in clothing that seemed consistent with the early 1800’s.

A weight seemed to drop away from her as they stepped outside and crossed the stone porch at the entrance. It was noticeably cooler than home, still warm but far more comfortable that the late summer heat of the deep south in the U.S. The rise the mammoth building had been built upon was deceptively higher than the land surrounding it, she discovered. As she stood at the top of the steps looking around at the countryside it seemed that she could see for miles, for it was surrounded by little more than rolling pasture in every direction that she could see. An occasional tree or hedgerow dotted the landscape. The road they had followed wound like a ribbon into the distance. A sizeable lake formed a nearly perfect bowl to the East. Beyond it was a thick wooded area.

There was so much space Anna found it more than a little unnerving. Accustomed as she was to the closed in feel of the city, she felt exposed and vulnerable beneath the tremendous bowl of blue sky.

Simon dropped an arm lightly along her shoulders as he guided her around the building. His nearness teased at her senses, warming her.

She found it almost as confusing. The gesture seemed--affectionate in a way that he had never displayed before and she couldn’t help but wonder what it might signify, if anything at all. He had been at such pains ever since she’d known him to keep a wedge of distance between them that she wanted to think it meant that she was more than a temporary companion.

She was afraid to either comment on it or even appear to notice for fear he might withdraw again. Instead, she divided her attention between studying the façade of the building as they strolled past the front and the landscape beyond it. “This has been here a very long time,” she said finally, more because she was uncomfortable with the silence than for any other reason.

He seemed almost to shrug. “Parts of it.”

She threw him a questioning glance.

“The original structure that was built on this site was begun shortly after the Norman invasion in 1066 as a fortress to protect William’s new kingdom. It was never really completed.” He paused, releasing her and turning to study the building, his eyes narrowed in thought. “The area where we’re standing was part of the inner ward. The inner curtain, the walls that fortified the position, ran along there,” he added, turning to point in the direction of the drive and drawing an imaginary line with his index finger along a slight rise in the ground that ran parallel to the building. “The outer curtain was begun once the inner curtain was completed, but by that time it was decided the castle wasn’t big enough to accommodate the vast household. What had begun as the outer curtain became the inner curtain and the outer curtain walls were built beyond that.”

Anna found it difficult to visualize. She’d seen pictures of forts and castles when she’d been in school, of course, but she hadn’t really studied the parts that made up such a structure and the terms he used weren’t familiar to her. Self-conscious about her ignorance, she didn’t ask him to elaborate.

“But the house part, it was always on this spot?”

His lips turned upward at one corner. “Yes, the house part was built here. It was expanded upon over the centuries. When the curtains were finally demolished, the stones were incorporated into the …uh … house, so much of this actually dates back to the original structure even though it served a different purpose at the time.

“The water from the lake was channeled around the outer curtain to form a moat, but the moat was later drained and the lake dammed to occupy its current location.”

Anna nodded and began walking again. He slipped an arm around her waist, hugging her briefly as he fell into step beside her. “I’m boring you to tears.”

She chuckled. “No.”

“That’s polite for yes.”

She threw him a laughing smile. “No, it isn’t. I’m just not familiar with castles, so I couldn’t really picture it in my head.”

“History bores you?”

“Actually, I was always interested in history. I never really studied world history, though. And I’ve hardly ever come in contact with much from Europe so I don’t really have the ‘feel’ of it like I do American history.” She frowned. “I was just thinking it must have been rough to live back then.”

He merely uttered a grunt, which she took to be agreement. “The world has changed over the centuries,” he said pensively.

When she glanced up at him, she saw his gaze was distant. She felt his withdrawal almost imperceptibly, but still a distancing of himself from her. His hand slipped from her waist to the middle of her back before he dropped it to his side.

Disappointed, she searched her mind for something to draw him away from his thoughts. “So--this style is …?”

He glanced at her. “Predominantly Elizabethan. From above, you can see that the wings form an E.”

“To honor the queen?”

He nodded.

She saw a walled garden as they rounded the side of the building and came at last to the back. Her interest was piqued immediately. “It’s huge!” she exclaimed as he unlatched the gate and ushered her inside.

“Approximately six acres huge,” he said wryly.

They found a bench and settled on it to rest.

“How long has this been here?”

“Parts of it for as long as the original structure. It started out as a kitchen garden. When the first owner took a wife, he had a small garden built to please his lady. She had little interest in it, however.”

Anna glanced at him, dismayed when she saw that his expression was distant, uncompromising, unreadable.

“He was something of a nodcock, actually. He was … obsessed with her, always scrambling about in search of something to do to win her favor.”

The comment, lightly as he said it, made empathy twist inside of her. “I don’t think that made him a … nodcock,” she finished, using the unfamiliar term he had, which she interpreted to mean he thought the man was a fool. “He must have loved her very much. It’s sweet, and sad, too. What happened?”

He shrugged. “I’m fairly certain he never did ... manage to please her. She died young.”

A coolness washed over Anna. She shivered. “He didn’t …? Did he …?”

“Kill her, you mean?” he asked harshly.

She blinked at the abrupt change in him, confused.

“Let’s just say he had a hand in her death. She lies in the family vault just there.”

Anna turned to follow the direction he’d indicated. Beyond the back wall of the garden she could see the top of a stone building. She’d thought it must be something like a gardening shed.

A cemetery. Her pleasure in the garden vanished.

“Ready to go in?”

She nodded and they reentered the building by way of a vast patio at the back. They parted company when they had reached the bedroom again.

Anna was distressed to discover he wasn’t sharing the room with her. His adjoined hers by way of a private door, forming a suite, but she felt even more distanced from him than she had in the apartment.

When he’d left, she explored the enormous room, taking care not to touch the furnishings which she knew were probably as old, or nearly as old, as the building itself. The floors were stone, but a thick, predominately sapphire blue carpet had been laid over it, covering most of the room. A fireplace with a beautifully crafted marble and wooden surround and mantel took up nearly a third of one of the inner walls. On either side of the hearth were two tall wing backed chairs set at an angle for both comfortable conversation and a view of the flames on the hearth during the winter when it was obviously still used. Between the chairs was a small table to be used as a receptacle for books, or beverage glasses, or perhaps needlework. A modern lamp had been set in roughly the center.

At the foot of the monolithic four posted canopy-topped bed was a low, backless couch. On either side of the headboard were more modern looking bedside cabinets, each hold a lamp. A vanity table and mirror stood along the longer portion of the wall interrupted by the private door and a massive armoire had been set between the two tall windows of the outer wall.

As big as every piece in the room was, the furnishings still seemed almost to rattle around in the space. She moved to the armoire and opened the double doors.

Her dresses, she discovered, had been hung inside. There were other dresses crowded into the armoire, as well. Both curious and puzzled, she examined the clothing, wondering if the last occupant had simply abandoned the obviously expensive dresses, or if she was staying in a room ordinarily occupied by someone else.

Oddly enough, the dresses appeared to be about the same size as hers. There were no size labels in them to be certain, but they looked as if they were. She was tempted to examine them more closely, but resisted the urge. They didn’t appear to be old enough to give off much of a reading, but she found she was reluctant to risk any reading at all.

Selecting her ruby colored gown at last, she carefully laid it out on the counterpane, searching until she’d found under clothing and headed into the bathroom. It had an antique feel to it, but not the dowdy, run down look of an ‘old’ bathroom. It was obvious that only the finest materials had been used in its construction.

Like everything else about the place, the bathroom was huge. Her entire apartment could have fit in the bathroom with room to spare. Discovering towels and a shower bonnet had been left on a cabinet near the shower, she pulled the cap over her hair and tucked it beneath the protective plastic.

When she’d bathed, she dried off, donned her bra and panties and returned to the bedroom to dress. She jerked all over when she turned and discovered that Simon had come in and stood near the hearth, one arm propped on the mantel, his gaze brooding. He frowned when she jumped.

She placed a hand over her pounding heart. “You startled me.”

“I apologize. I thought you would’ve heard me come in.”

She wondered why she hadn’t. The room was cavernous, but she realized sounds didn’t really echo in it like she would’ve expected. “I guess my mind was elsewhere.”

He strode toward her as she began struggling with the zipper at the back of her dress, pushing her fingers away and zipping it himself.

Feeling strangely unnerved by his nearness, she moved away from him when he’d finished, searching her mind for something to say to break the awkward tension she felt. Nothing came to mind, but she spied her toiletries on the surface of the vanity and moved toward it, settling on the bench to comb her hair.

He stood where she’d left him, watching her.

It occurred to her as she sneaked a couple of surreptitious glances at his reflection in the mirror above the vanity that he seemed almost as tense as she was. Catching her gaze in the mirror, he turned away and moved back to the hearth. As she watched, she saw him lift some sort of dark pouch from the mantel. He almost seemed to weigh in his palm for a moment before he closed his fingers over it and crossed the room to stand behind her.

She saw when she turned to look up at him that there was uncertainty in his gaze. It wasn’t something she had ever seen in his eyes before and at first she thought she was mistaken. Apparently coming to a decision at last, he loosened the ties on the pouch and tipped it, pouring the contents onto the vanity top.

Anna gasped, feeling a shock wave roll over her when the light struck the jewels and precious metal. It was Liz’s necklace and for several moments she felt downright faint as she stared at it. She hadn’t let on that she’d found it, partly because she was afraid of what he might do if he knew she’d discovered what he’d done, and partly because she might have to confess that she knew exactly where the necklace had come from. “It’s … beautiful,” she finally managed to say in a choked voice.

He lifted it by one end, holding it almost indecisively. She saw a flicker of trepidation in his eyes before they hardened with purpose.

“This is one of the reasons we couldn’t leave right away. It was stolen. I had to … reclaim it.”

Anna’s widened but confusion filled her. It had been his all along? That was why he’d recognized the drawing, she realized. That was why he’d known there were matching earrings.

He touched her hand, waiting for her to meet his gaze. “I had this made for the woman I loved more than life,” he said, his voice sounding strange. Hesitating for a moment, he stepped behind her and placed the necklace around her throat. “For you.”

She’d been too stunned by the necklace and what he’d said to think about objecting. A wave of dizziness swept over her as the cold metal settled against her bare skin. Her mind filled with swirling images that almost seemed to form a whirlpool, sucking her down. She gripped the edge of the vanity with both hands, trying to steady herself, struggling to thrust the images away.

* * * *

Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest when she reached her chamber that she was almost giddy with the emotions roiling through her. It would’ve been hard to say whether fear and guilt, or excitement and anticipation held dominance.

Either way, doubts did not trouble her. She loved Dafydd. She had made a mistake, but she had no intention of simply accepting that she had, that there was no changing things now without making a push to secure her happiness, to bend fate to her will.

As she spied the tub of steaming water awaiting her husband’s arrival, however, she was brought to earth by practicalities. She could smell Dafydd’s scent upon her, the pungent, mucky scent of their lovemaking and she did not have to look in the mirror to know she looked as guilty as she felt--that she looked as if she’d just rushed from her lover’s arms.

Summoning her maids abruptly, she scurried out of her clothing and bathed hurriedly. The water was nigh scalding since it had been expected to sit awhile before Lord Westmoreland would have the chance to make use of it, but she considered that a fortunate circumstance. The heat soothed her frazzled nerves, flushed her skin all over, making it more difficult to discern the burn of her lover’s bristled chin on her flesh and removing all traces of his scent.

She would’ve liked to linger a while, but she didn’t dare. If Westmoreland so much as suspected anything was amiss, Bainbridge’s plan might well be undone and both her life and Bainbridge’s would likely be forfeit.

Until she could set the plan in motion, it was critical that she see to it that Westmoreland didn’t suspect she had a lover at all, much less that she planned to flee to his protection.

She’d thought she had achieved a state of calm when the door abruptly burst open and Westmoreland entered. She tensed, searching his face for some sign that he suspected, that he was angry with her.

He surveyed the room briefly, his harsh face softening perceptibly as his gaze settled on her and she almost sagged with relief. “My lady,” he said, nodding, his voice gruff, loud in the chamber. He strode purposefully across the room to loom over her. “What is all this, then? Ye did not hear my arrival?”

She looked up at him uneasily wondering if her relief had been premature. “Aye, I did, my lord. I did not want to go down until I had made myself presentable.”

He grunted, but some of the tension seemed to ease from him. “I would have been--pleased if ye’d come to greet me below like a wife anxious for her husband’s return. I would not have been left to wonder then if ye’d missed me.”

He shifted uncomfortably under her steady gaze, as if he’d suddenly become aware that she seemed more unnerved by his return than pleased and was seeking something to say to break the tension. His eyes lit at last on the tub before the hearth. “Ye’ll catch yer death bathin’ in the dead o’ winter,” he said gruffly.

“I wanted to be pretty for you,” she said hesitantly.

He knelt beside the bench, his movements a little stiff, as if the motion pulled at his recently healed wounds. “Ye cannot improve upon nature, my lady. Yer as near perfect now as makes no difference atall,” he said, his voice gravely now with a different emotion as he settled one gauntlet clad hand upon her shoulder.

She shivered.

He frowned, looking down at the gauntlet suspiciously. “Is it cold then?”

“Aye, a little,” she responded.

Removing his hand, he pulled the gauntlet off and tossed it to the floor before removing its twin. “My hands are worse,” he said, flexing his fingers and rubbing his hands together in an attempt to generate some heat.

“Ye should have stopped to warm yerself before the fire, my lord,” she said chidingly, wishing he had, that he’d given her more time to compose herself..

“I’ve nae seen ye in a month,” he said slowly. He seemed to notice the distaste in her expression and looked down at his armor self-consciously. “I should have made myself more presentable before I came to ye.”

“Nay! Ye were right to come straight up, my lord. It’s my place to see to yer comfort. Let’s get ye settled over by the fire and get the armor off and I’ll bathe the muck of the road off ye. Ye’ll feel better in no time.”

He stood with an effort, his expression vaguely offended, but he moved to the chair his lady had indicated and stood docilely while she and the maids removed his armor piece by piece. When the maids gathered the pieces of armor and departed, he discarded the last of his clothing and climbed into the tub, watching her with the hungrily as she crossed the room and dug in his trunk to find fresh clothing for him, but he made no attempt to touch her until she seemed satisfied that he was clean. He was shivering when he climbed from the tub and she began to rub him briskly to dry him.

Before she could help him dress in fresh clothing, however, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Tossing her to the mattress, he fell upon her like a starving man. His palms were rough, chafed from his gauntlets and the cold as he caressed her body with them, following the path his hands blazed with his lips.

She uttered a sound of protest when he dropped her to the bed and covered her body with his, but in a few moments she was writhing beneath his touch excitedly, uttering little whimpers and gasps of pleasure.

Pushing her gown up to her waist, he pulled her thighs wide and settled his hips between them, entering her in almost the same motion. A guttural sound of pleasure erupted from his throat as he drove his turgid flesh into her heated depths. Mindless with need now, he began to thrust and retreat from her body at a furious pace. “Ah, love, it’s been too long. I canna hold it,” he growled.

She gasped, raking her nails along his back as she went rigid and then began to jerk as her body found release. Her convulsions sent him over the edge. He thrust jerkily as her body milked his of his seed and lay heavily on top of her, breathing raggedly.

After a moment, he struggled to relieve her of his weight, settling beside her and running a hand caressingly over her. “Ye’ve missed me, as well,” he muttered, his voice still rough, but threaded with pleasure.

“Aye. Tis a black sin the way my body craves yers,” she gasped, feeling guilty all over again that she could enjoy coupling with him when it was Dafydd she loved.

He came up on one elbow. “Yer my wife. There’s no sin it.”

“Yer men’ll be wonderin’ what’s become of ye. We should dress and join the others in the hall.”

“They’re not so witless they won’t know what’s become of me,” he said, chuckling. He got up though after a moment and moved to collect the clothing she’d lain out for him, watching her as he pulled them on.

Making a face at the stickiness between her legs, she rolled off the bed and moved to the tub to clean herself before she returned to the bench and sat once more, combing her hair.

When he’d dressed, he looked around for his pouch. Hefting it for a moment, as if weighing the coins within it, he crossed the room to stand behind her. Setting the pouch upon the table, he loosened the ties and pulled something bright from it. The gleam snared her gaze and she turned to look. Her eyes widened with wonder as the jewels caught the firelight and winked at her.

She gasped, one hand flying to her throat. “It is--beautiful.”

“Not nearly so beautiful as the woman it was made for.”

Dragging her gaze from the necklace, she looked up at him. “It is not....”

He looked confused for a moment. Finally, he frowned. “Nay. Tis nae pillage. I drew the design myself and had a goldsmith make it for ye.”

He was still frowning as he settled the piece of finely wrought gold encrusted with jewels around her smooth, white throat and grappled with the catch. “My fingers are too thick and clumsy fer so fine a thing,” he muttered.

“They are still stiff with cold,” she contradicted him. “Let me try.”

“Nay. This once, I’ll place it on ye myself.”

* * * *

After what seemed an endless time, the darkness began to lift. Anna’s gaze began to focus. She found herself staring at a wavering reflection in the mirror that seemed ghosted upon her own. Slowly, the two images merged until she saw only her own reflection and Simon’s.

He knelt beside her, stroking a hand slowly over her head and smoothing it down her back.

She found it difficult to interpret the emotions that welled inside of her at the caress. She found it harder still to digest the images.

She was dressed in a ruby gown, but it bore little resemblance to the gown she’d put on only minutes before. The fabric wasn’t soft. It was stiff and scratchy against her skin. A thin edging of lace, woven with ribbon trimmed the neckline of her bodice--which was plunged far deeper than before, revealing much of her breasts. The formal attire Simon had been wearing had vanished, as well. He wore the armor of a knight.

When she met his gaze at last, she saw that he almost seemed to be holding his breath. She frowned. “You look the same.”

He swallowed audibly.

Turning, she studied the reflection in the mirror again, her gaze moving beyond the two of them to the room. She saw that the chamber, like her gown, had changed. The blue that had dominated the colors of the room was of a more greenish shade, more of a deep teal than true blue and the furniture was arranged differently.

“What’s happening?” she asked shakily.

“What do see?”

“Me and you, but not as we are now. As we were...” She looked up at him sharply. “We lived here before.” She embraced him abruptly, burrowing her face against his neck. He felt the same. It comforted her and yet she couldn’t shake a growing sense of panic. “Simone! Je ne comprends pas!”             

His arms tightened around her. “You do understand,” he murmured. “You just don’t want to accept it.”

“We lived here before,” she said again, this time with more certainty.

He seemed to hesitate. “Yes,” he said finally.

She pulled away from him. “We look the same. You look like …Westmoreland. I look … like her. That’s not real. It’s the past overlaying the present.”

He placed his palms on her cheeks, studying her. “I could scarcely believe it when you walked back into my life that day. You look … just as did before. I thought perhaps I had gone completely mad. I thought fate was playing another sick game with me. I couldn’t believe it really was you, but I couldn’t dismiss it either. All I could think about was trying to keep you a little longer. You’re even the age you were when you....”

She swallowed a little sickly when he halted abruptly. “When I died?”

His face contorted with remembered grief. “When I lost you. When I failed you and hurt you.” He slipped his arms around her, gathering her tightly against him, almost bruisingly. “I couldn’t trust anything I thought I knew. I saw that you didn’t remember and that scared the hell out of me, because I thought it might mean that it was only in my mind.”

Almost as if his words had summoned them, the dreams she’d had flooded her mind again, and she remembered the gift, remembered the first time he’d placed the necklace around her throat. The doubt began to subside, but as it did an uncomfortable awareness of their past life seeped into her. Pain came with it, not happiness. “I betrayed you. How could you possibly feel anything for me except contempt and hatred, knowing what I had done to you before?”

He pulled away and she saw confusion in his eyes. “You didn’t betray me. You loved me.”

Anna swallowed a little sickly, realizing that he must have spent the remainder of his life believing the woman he’d loved had returned his love. He couldn’t see what she could see. Whatever he remembered from that past life, it was not what she had learned and that was that she had been a selfish, heartless woman. She had not loved the man who was so devoted to her.

She had loved Dafydd.

David’s face materialized in her mind and as it did the realization descended upon her that he had been a part of their past--and Liz. She’d thought the dreams were only from the jewelry, but they weren’t dreams at all. They were memories. The four of them had crossed lives before, loved, betrayed--destroyed one another.

Bad karma. She had never really believed in it, but she saw now that it didn’t really matter what she believed. It seemed indisputable that the awful life she’d lived until she’d met Simon was her penance for past misdeeds.

“You still love her.”

His face twisted with anguish. “I love you. I have always loved you.”

She had to struggle against a sudden urge to burst into tears. “The woman you loved died, Simon. I’m not the same woman, even if I do look like her. I’m Anna now, born in poverty, raised in foster homes--in and out of jail, a kooky psychic. I’m not Anne, the daughter of an aristocrat. And you aren’t Lord Westmoreland.”

An indecipherable emotion flickered in his eyes. He looked away, got to his feet. “You don’t... You’re not in love with me?” he asked a little sickly.

The urge to cry moved closer, became almost impossible to fight. She felt her chin wobble. “The problem is, I do. I love you so much it hurts. You don’t love me. You love … this face because it reminds you of her.”

“You’re wrong, Anna. You don’t just look the same, you are the same. Those aren’t dreams, they’re memories--whatever else that you have experienced since that time, you are the same person you always were and I could not possibly love you more than I do--because of who you are now and who you were then.”

She looked at him a little helplessly and finally looked down at her hands. “I’d like to be alone. Please.”

His face hardened, but she saw desperation in his eyes as well as confusion and anger. “I knew I couldn’t explain it to you, even when I began to suspect, that you would think I was crazy. I thought you would understand when you saw. You don’t.”

She was very much afraid she did.

When he’d strode from the room, slamming the door behind him, Anna removed the necklace and placed it on the vanity. A jolt of fear went through her when she looked at her reflection again.

It hadn’t changed. She still saw the past not the present. Struggling with her emotions and the fear that the two times had somehow merged in her mind, she rose from the bench unsteadily and moved to the bed to lie down.

The images rolled over her again when she closed her eyes, this time in a slow progression that did not shield her from the emotions tied to the past. They seemed different somehow, as if she was actually remembering in truth instead of simply experiencing them as an observer as she had before.

She allowed herself to drift through them, more willing to examine the past than deal with the present.

When the memories had played out in her mind, an odd sense of urgency swept over her. After struggling to dismiss it for a time, she got up and left the room. The corridor was empty.

She knew even before she went into Simon’s room that he wasn’t there. Consternation filled her, though, when she didn’t find him. Returning to the corridor, she glanced in first one direction and then the other. Drawn by some force she couldn’t entirely identify, she turned away from the stairs she and Simon had used before. At a turn in the corridor, she found another set of stairs. Narrow, chiseled roughly from stone, and worn in the center from the passage of many feet over time, they led upward in a sharp curl. She set her foot upon the first stair, looking up as the realization settled upon her that the stairs were a part of the old keep and led to the battlements.

She followed them, one hand along the wall to steady herself. When she emerged at the top, a sharp gust of wind pelted her, molding her heavy skirts against her legs, lifting her hair to dance around her.

Simon stood with one foot on the lower edge of the crenulated wall of the battlements. Her heart seemed to stand still in her chest.

She knew he was contemplating death. Pain twisted inside of her. Hesitantly, she crossed the walk, moving closer.

“She would not want this, Simone!”

He turned when she spoke, his devastation clear in every line of his expression. She saw his throat work as he swallowed. “Would she not?”

Tears welled in her eyes and began to flow down her cheeks. “Is there not even one tiny corner of yer heart that ye can spare for anyone else? I am with child. Yer child.”

Shock wiped the anguish from his face. “That’s … not possible,” he said, his words stilted with disbelief.

A sob escaped her. “It is possible! Ye didn’t know what ye were doing when ye took me, it’s true, but it happened nonetheless. Don’t hate me. I couldn’t stop it.”

Comprehension and alarm replaced the look of shock on his face abruptly. “Anna don’t! I didn’t mean any of the things I said to you. I was … distraught, half mad with grief--more than half mad, truth be told.”

Anna blinked as the world seemed to shift around her abruptly. Horror filled her as she stared at him. “I’m not Anne! I’m Elspeth!” she screamed at him.

“I know.” He took a step toward her.

She backed away and he halted. “You hated me. I saw it in your face. You blamed me for her death.”

“I was insane with grief! Do you think I haven’t tortured myself with the things I said to you? Do you think I haven’t spent every day regretting it? It was too late. I couldn’t take it back. I didn’t get the chance to beg your forgiveness. I’m begging you now, Anna. I never meant it. I’ve waited so long for you. Give me a chance, please.”

Scrubbing at the tears on her cheeks, Anna whirled abruptly and darted back through the access door.

“Oh god! Anna! Don’t!”

She ignored his cry of fear, ran faster as she heard him snatch the door open and begin pelting down the stairs behind her. Sobbing, she tried to steady her descent by keeping a hand on the wall. The toe of her shoe snagged in the ankle length gown sending a sharp stab of fright through her. She caught her balance with an effort, lifting the skirt with one hand, but the tears blinded her. She screamed as she stumbled again, clawing uselessly at the stone wall as she pitched forward.

Behind her, she heard Simon cry out in horror.

In a blur, she felt herself falling, tumbling. Pain went through her shoulder and hip sickeningly as she struck one of the stone treads and then kept rolling dizzyingly. She closed her eyes against the disorienting blur of motion, unaware for many moments after she’d finally stopped that she had halted. She was too stunned to move, too bewildered even to wonder what damage she had done to herself, so shocked she couldn’t feel the pain she knew she should feel or fear because she didn’t feel it.

She heard Simon land on his knees beside her, felt his hands move over, searching for injuries. After a moment, he lifted her shoulders and cradled her against his chest, his hand cupping the side of her face. Darkness greeted her when she opened her eyes. It scared her more than the fall. “Simone! I can’t see anything but darkness.”

A raw cry of anguish tore from his chest. “Anna! Don’t leave me! I canna live and bear it if ye leave me here again. I have waited so long. So many years! Stay with me, love.”

His voice sounded oddly distant. A sensation of falling drifted over her and then, strangely, she found herself looking down upon Simon and herself.

“Anna, stay with me! I won’t let you go!”

The anguish in his cry tugged at her. She felt as if she was falling again and then rushing upward. She was cold. She couldn’t breathe. Abruptly, her struggle to catch her breath was rewarded. She gasped like someone emerging from beneath water having held their breath until their lungs burned with need.

She could feel tremors rippling through him, heard his anguish in the harsh sounds he couldn’t contain. Lifting one hand blindly, she stroked his arm. “Hush, my love. I will always be with ye. I canna do ought else, for I’ve loved ye since we first met. I knew it was wrong, but I could nae help myself.”

“It wasn’t wrong! Nothing that you ever did was wrong,” he said fiercely. “I was wrong.” He struggled with his emotions for a moment and finally eased his hold on her. “I have to get you to a hospital.”

“Simon!” Anna exclaimed. Pain had begun to replace the numbness and fear had come with it.

He soothed her. Getting to his feet, he lifted her against his chest carefully and carried her to her room. When he had settled her gently on the counterpane, he strode to an intercom unit near the door and called for an ambulance.

He knelt beside the bed when he returned, lifting her hand and carrying it to his cheek. He stroked a hand caressingly along her arm, pulling her closer. “They’re coming, Anna. You’re going to be all right,” he murmured. “Don’t go to sleep, love. Talk to me.”

She felt herself drifting. Memories from the past seemed to merge with the memories of her present life. “I was more than half in love with you before I ever met you,” she murmured, smiling faintly at the memory. “Anne was so cross with me because I kept asking the bard to sing me the tale of your feats in battle over and over. When you rode into our keep that day, I couldn’t wait to see you. You looked just as I had imagined you would … except much more handsome.”

He smiled wryly. “Ye couldn’t have gotten a very good look at me then. I’ll need to have yer eyes checked, love.”

She chuckled at that and instantly regretted it. Pain consumed her and she had to fight for breath for several moments. By the time she could breathe a little easier and opened her eyes, Simon looked so ill with anxiety she began to wonder if she was hurt worse than she thought.

Anna was not happy when she discovered the ambulance she’d been waiting for was a helicopter. She wasn’t even allowed to try to sleep through the frightening ride. Every time she tried to drift off Simon would pat her cheek again. “Don’t go to sleep.”

* * * *

Anna had little choice but to spring her announcement on Simon. She felt like kicking herself for not telling him before, when they could have shared the news in private, but she knew the doctors had to know about her condition before they treated her.

The announcement didn’t have the effect on Simon that she’d expected. He exchanged a look with the doctor and shook his head.

She didn’t know whether to be more annoyed, amused, or alarmed. She could see that Simon thought she was still ‘in the past’ and didn’t realize it was Elspeth who’d been pregnant, not her. To her relief, the doctors didn’t take any chances in the dispute. Her abdomen was covered with a lead blanket before they x-rayed her from the top of her head to her toes. She had a mild concussion, a cracked rib, several broken fingers from trying to catch herself when she fell, and her body was a mass of bruises, but nothing that seemed seriously life threatening and, to her great relief, the doctor assured her the baby had not been harmed.

Simon was standing by the bed studying her when she woke up in her hospital room later. He looked more perplexed than relieved. “The doctor told me you were pregnant.”

She felt a mixture of relief and guilt. “It’s all right, though?”

He nodded, frowning as he lifted her hand and brushed his lips along her fingers.

She studied his face as everything she’d learned about Simon abruptly fell into place like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. “You weren’t reincarnated. You don’t just seem the same. You are the same.”

He winced. “I like to think I’ve learned, that I’m a better man than I was when you knew me last. I had plenty of room for improvement, and a lot of bloody time to manage it. Christ! If I haven’t there’s no bleeding hope for me.”

She smiled faintly. “No wonder you were always talking about me being so young.” No wonder he’d reverted to French. He was from Normandy. She knew at least that much history.

She saw pain, misery, and uncertainty in his eyes, not the amusement she’d been striving for. He swallowed with an effort. “It was that silly wimple,” he said finally. “If you hadn’t switched with Anne, I would’ve known it was you I’d seen peeping at me from the window, you who nearly knocked me off my feet when you plowed into me later, for I might have been a complete dolt when it came to wooing a fine lady, but I knew you were interested in me or he’d not have been behaving so odd. You would’ve been running in the other direction, not trying to get a peek at me.

“She taunted me with it when I told her I was captivated the moment I saw her. She told me it was you, that she’d switched her headdress for yours before you came down and even then I didn’t realize … I didn’t see it, Anna, because I didn’t want to. I think in the back of my mind I was sore afraid that I’d made my vows to the wrong woman and I couldn’t face knowing that.

“I was nigh middle aged and still as green as grass. I’d been with whores a plenty, but I was scarce seventeen summers when I came with William and I’d known nothing but war since. I was no great hand at courting a lady and worse than clumsy, I think, because it was so important to me. I was twice her age and she unmanned me, made me feel like a great awkward sod any time I tried to woo her.

“Even when I couldn’t reconcile the way she behaved with the view I had of her, I told myself it was only because I didn’t understand the workings of a woman’s mind. I didn’t realize then that it was because all the things I loved about her weren’t even things she’d done at all. It was you.

“I had no home till you came and made one for me. Every comfort I thought my wife had provided for me was your doing. And I know, now, that it was you who brought me back from the brink of death, who stayed with me and nursed me, and gave me the will to live, who wept when you thought I wouldn’t make it.

“It was you I took that night, thinking it was Anne teasing me again and then refusing me like she so often did.

“I am accursed and I’ve none to blame but myself. I cannot break it, Anna. I have tried. God knows I have had nothing but time to consider every mistake I ever made, nothing but time to think of how I could make it right.

“Thrice her life crossed mine, and each attempt I made to set things right only seemed to make it worse.”

Anna felt tears well in her eyes. “It’s not your fault, Simon. Don’t torture yourself anymore. If you’re accursed then I am more to blame than anyone else. I was so afraid you’d think I was just a silly girl that I was grateful when Anne offered to exchange wimples with me. I knew you’d recognized it and I still couldn’t find the courage to do anything about it. Anne was eldest. It was useless to consider that there was any possibility of a marriage between us once she’d decided to accept you and I knew it.

“And the worst of it is that I was the one who talked her into it. I was so … smitten, I could do nothing but sing your praises and it took no more than my wanting you to make her determined to marry you.

“I don’t think even I realized that I’d destroyed every chance for my own happiness until I caught her with Lord Bainbridge.” She swallowed uneasily. “You know she was never faithful to you?”

He drew in a ragged breath. “I know. I was too hardheaded to accept it then, when Bainbridge claimed her child. Even when I looked into her eyes and saw the truth, I refused to accept it.”

He shook his head. “I’d say the mistakes of the past were best left there, but they’re not just past mistakes. I can’t put them behind me and move on.”

His hand tightened on hers. “That first day when you walked into my shop it was the first time I had seen you in all these years, when my life had become nothing but a pure torment to me, a living hell that I had no choice but to endure, forever it seemed. I couldn’t think beyond the fact that you were there, looking just as you did the last time I saw you. All I could think was that at long last I had another chance to be with you. And yet, I was afraid to take what I wanted so much. I had not broken the curse and I could not banish the fear that your coming was some sort of test for me and that I would never know peace.

“I know I’ve no right to ask, but I don’t think I can bear being alone anymore. Stay with me, Anna. Marry me.”

A thrill of happiness went through her that was so heady she couldn’t bring herself to trust it. “You’re not just asking because of the baby?”

He squeezed his eyes closed, swallowing thickly. “How can you ask me that? How can you still doubt me when you must know how much I love you?”

She lifted a hand, stroking her fingers through his dark hair. She did still have doubts, but she realized she didn’t care if they were there. She loved him. It was enough that he seemed to believe it was her he loved. She would make it enough. “I’d like nothing better than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He looked torn at her response and she knew it was because of the vow he’d made so long ago. He’d said he couldn’t break it. That was why he’d been afraid to allow their relationship to grow, not because he was worried about himself, but because he was worried about how it would be for her--to grow old alone.

“It doesn’t matter, Simon,” she said gently. “We’ll be together and … I will always return to you.”

He looked more than a little ill at the thought, but he forced a smile and leaned down to kiss her. “I hope you don’t have your heart set on a grand wedding. I don’t want to wait.”

“The idea of a huge wedding petrifies me,” she assured him. “Something quick and quiet will do, especially since we already have a baby on the way.”

His gaze slipped away from hers. “I can’t have children, Anna.”

A pain went through her. She’d known he would doubt he was the baby’s father and it still hurt. “It’s your baby, Simon. We made it the first time we were together. I was afraid to tell you because … I thought you might be upset with me for being so careless. But, whatever you think, I haven’t been with anyone but you.”

He returned her steady gaze with a piercing one of his own. Slowly, it seemed to sink in on him that she was absolutely certain. The blood left his face. Glancing around a little vaguely, he spied the guest chair and settled into it heavily, as if his knees had given out.

“You’re not upset with me, are you?”

He stared at her as if he was still struggling to digest the information. “I’ve never had a child,” he said finally, his voice hoarse. “I thought it was a part of the curse.”

Anna felt a smile begin inside of her, warming her until it finally curled her lips, because she realized suddenly what the baby meant. It meant that she need nurse no doubts that Simon only loved her because he knew she was Elspeth reincarnated. It meant Simon had finally fulfilled his vow. “You made a vow on the Odin Stone never to rest until you could hold your beloved in your arms again,” she reminded him gently. “You loved me then. You love me now, and I have always loved you.”

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

The following are extended excerpts from Kaitlyn O’Connor’s Cyborg Series Books 1-7.  Sample, pick your favorite ‘flavor’—they’ll stand alone—or buy all seven!

 

Cyberevolution Book One:

The Awakening

 

By

 

Kaitlyn O’Connor

 

( c) copyright by Kaitlyn O’Connor, July 2012

Cover Art by Eliza Black, July 2012

New Concepts Publishing

www.newconceptspublishing.com

Chapter One

There was no question about the precise moment the drop ship entered the planet’s atmosphere.  The troop carrier began to shimmy.  The vibrations increased exponentially as they dropped lower until it reached a point where it felt like it would liquefy flesh, bones, and teeth, and everything around them would disintegrate.  Then the transport began to buck wildly.   Abruptly, an explosion ripped a hole in the hull wide enough to suck three troopers and their seats out of it. 

Something strange happened when it did.  Seth CO1543 felt his motor functions slow in a most peculiar way.  Logically, he knew that the hull breach, the flying shrapnel that peppered every troop close enough to catch a projectile, the screams, the flying bits of flesh, blood, and metal that resulted from the impact of the projectiles, and the abrupt extraction of one entire row of seats and their occupants created by the opposing forces of interior and exterior pressure occurred almost simultaneously.  He also knew that his processor was fast enough to record all of those nearly instantaneous occurrences. 

Time seemed to slow, however.  He blinked, heard a strange roaring sound that did not seem to be related to the hull breach—because it occurred milliseconds prior to that—and then he saw everything that happened in a series of stills.  As if he was experiencing a complete system failure due to faulty, failing power supply, he saw the hole simply appear, the darkness beyond as profound as deep space, although he knew it was simply the dark side of the world below them.  He saw the stunned expressions on the faces of the three troops that were sucked out as they flew backwards in their safety harnesses and vanished in the black abyss. 

Panning right, he saw the troops who had been seated beside them turn their heads very slowly toward the hole and the strange, disjointed dance several others performed as holes appeared in their bodies and chunks of flesh, blood, and pieces of metal slowly jetted from them. 

It was more than a slowing of his visual perception, however.  He could not seem to process what he had recorded.  He felt oddly blank, which became even more bizarre when he realized he had not simply shut down.

This was a very strange system failure indeed.

Particularly when he felt a rush of something completely incomprehensible fill the odd void.

Abruptly, his heart rate shot upward and he felt his body tingle with cold as if an electric current had sizzled along his exterior, penetrating all the way to his biological organs nestled in the armor of his chassis.  And then time, his motor functions, seemed to abruptly right themselves and everything was happening simultaneously around him, too quickly to process. 

A sense of alarm abruptly penetrated the peculiar and opposing hyperawareness/dulling-slowing of his perceptions and he strained against his safety harness to twist his head around enough to assess his team leader, Corporal Danika Hart—his human handler.  She was staring at the hole, her blue eyes wide, her face as pale as death, her lips parted slightly.  The frozen look on her face sent a shaft of … something through Seth, making his heart jar in his chest, as if it had lost its rhythm. 

“Danika!  Are you alright?  Were you hit?”

She sent him a startled look, which sent another inexplicable tide of something unidentifiable twisting through Seth.  She had not ceased to function—was not dead, he corrected himself.

She blinked a couple of times and then looked down at herself as if she could not assess her condition without a visual—and her hands.  She patted her torso and then looked at him again.  “Damage report,” she demanded abruptly. 

It was at that point that it occurred to Seth that he had not executed a damage report despite the fact that he had noted that his systems were performing in a very erratic way.  He frowned and looked down at himself as she had.   When he looked at her again, he saw that she was studying him strangely.  He felt the temperature of the flesh of his face heat inexplicably and a strange flutter in his belly, as if he had swallowed something alive that was still moving.   “All systems fully operational.  No damage.”

She studied him several moments more and Seth felt a fluctuation of heat and cold that seemed to be a reaction to her close scrutiny—uneasiness and a sense of guilt.  Finally, she dismissed him and flicked a glance at the other two squad members.  “Dane—Niles—damage report.”

“All systems fully functional.  Minor anterior damage to torso,” Niles responded.  “The shrapnel did not penetrate beyond biological sheathing.  Nanos performing repair.   Estimated repair time … one hour to complete.”

“Mobility impaired,” Dane replied.  “Extensive damage to pneumatic knee joint.  Nanos affecting repairs.  Estimated repair time six hours.  Minor damage to biological sheathing in three locations—right knee, right calf, right arm—estimated repair time 45 minutes, 13 seconds.”

“Fuck!” Danika exclaimed.  “Patch the suits!  We’re on the dark side and looking at well below zero temperatures.  Can you make the jump, Dane?”

“Affirmative—disregarding more damage prior to reaching the jump altitude.”

Since several more missiles had exploded in close proximity to the drop ship during the course of the systems checks, making it necessary for them to bellow at one another only to be heard, Seth thought the probability of more damage was high.  He considered pointing that out until it occurred to him that not only had Danika not requested the information, but it was purely speculation on his part when he had not run statistic probabilities and could not when he had no idea what the strength of the force was that was launching the missiles. That realization sent him into even more confusion.  He had not been programmed to simply ‘guess’ or to add to confusion under attack by voicing an opinion without real substance.  Unable to dismiss the suspicion that he had sustained some sort of damage, he ran another systems check.  Again, his systems report was negative.  Unconvinced despite that, he lifted one hand and examined his head, wondering if a microscopic fragment had penetrated his skull and damaged his CPU. 

His squad leader noticed the movement and the examination.  “Is there a problem, Seth?”

The odd fluctuation of hot and cold flooded him again, the inexplicable sense of ‘wrong’.  “Negative.”  The realization that he had just lied struck Seth forcefully.  He had informed his squad leader that he was fully functional and could detect no damage when in fact he suspected that his entire system was malfunctioning. 

He was no longer recording internal and external events, he realized after considering the problem for some moments.  He was … feeling. 

That discovery … unnerved him.  He could not think of another way to describe the strange hot/cold fluctuation, the tightening sensation in his gut, or the erratic rhythm of his heart.  He dismissed that possibility and examined the events he had noted since the drop and determined that he could track the anomaly back to the precise instant the exploding missile had ruptured the hull of their drop ship—or rather an instant prior to that.  There had been a roaring sound, like the rush of air, almost as if he had anticipated the rupture of the hull.

He had not heard the sound with his ears, though.  It had been inside his brain—the biological part—not the CPU.

Anger swept through him—not the perception of an event that might cause anger or the reaction he had been programmed to exhibit upon such an occurrence.  He felt it.

The biological brain he had been given was defective, he thought angrily, and there could be no worse time to make that discovery than in the midst of battle! 

“Bail out!  Bail!  Bail!  Bail!” the co-pilot, a human, abruptly roared over the com-unit. 

Niles and even Dane had thrown off their safety harnesses and were on their feet before the human had issued the order the second time.  Brought abruptly from his internal examination, Seth was a few seconds behind them due his preoccupation. 

Danika, he discovered, was still trying to free herself from her safety harness.  He reached down, pushed her hands aside, and depressed the lock release.  She flicked a look of surprise at him and then glared.  Shoving his hands away, she tossed the harness off and stood with an effort. 

Then promptly fell back into her seat.

Grasping a handful of her suit, Seth hauled her to her feet again, trying to help her steady herself on the rolling, bucking deck.

“Line up to bail!” she bellowed.

He obeyed, hauling her around until she was in front of him, wedged between his belly and Dane’s back.  They shuffled toward the gaping maw of the drop ramp that had been opened, fighting the rocking of the ship and the buffeting wind. 

“Oh my god!” Danika exclaimed when they reached the opening where they could see the planet below them.  “What the fuck are they thinking?  I can’t make this jump!”

The wind whipped her voice away, but Seth had gotten close enough to gauge the distance to the ground, as well, and his calculations substantiated hers.  The drop was too far for a human to manage without sustaining debilitating damage.  He wrapped an arm around Danika and stepped off of the platform, allowing his legs to absorb the shock as they landed. 

He discovered he had miscalculated having had insufficient data to correctly assess the snow pack.  His considerable weight and the distance, combined with Danika’s added weight, resulted in him landing with sufficient force that he was driven waist deep into the snow and ice.  He released her as he felt himself sinking and she landed on the softer pack of the surface with a grunt as the air was punched from her lungs. 

A projectile struck Seth in the shoulder while he was assessing the situation and calculating the best way to free himself.  A dozen more peppered the ground around Seth and Danika, throwing up fountains of snow as they furrowed. 

Dimly, Seth was aware of alarm at the danger Danika was in, fully exposed and lying on the top of the soft pack, snow camo or not.  Peripherally, he was aware that the entire battalion was taking heavy fire from nearly every direction.  He was mostly focused, however, on the pain that had exploded in his shoulder and filled his mind as the projectile tore through the biological sheathing of his shoulder.

He had never experienced pain before.   He was so stunned by the reaction, in point of fact, that it took him many moments to comprehend what it was.  There should have been nothing more than an alert of damage—followed by a damage report!

The second projectile that cut a burning path along the same arm finally shook him from his preoccupation with the intense new sensations and forced him to focus on avoiding more pain.   After pushing ineffectually against the shifting snow for a few moments, he finally drew the upper portion of his body downward since he couldn’t pull his knees up and used the force to propel himself upward. 

He landed face down near his squad leader.  Crawling forward, he managed to form a protective shield on one side.  “Dane!  Niles!  To the squad leader!  Form a barrier.”

He discovered Danika was gaping at him when he focused on her, trying to assess damage—or if she had damage. 

“Getting my squad shot all to shit isn’t going to help me!” she growled. 

Their com units squawked.  “Forward squads!  Lay down a suppressing fire.  Rear squads fall back!”

“Shit!” Danika responded to the abrupt command that squawked over their com units.  “We were last to drop.  That makes us forward, damn it.  Get your weapons up, squad!  Fire!  Fire! Fire!”

Reflecting that he could still shield her with his body facing away from her, Seth rolled away from her and unshouldered his weapon.   To his relief, his malfunction didn’t seem to extend to his ability to calculate the trajectory of the projectiles flying at them.  Unfortunately, also by his calculations, his own weapon range fell short of the enemy’s.  Ignoring the lack of logic in firing on an enemy he could not hit in favor of the orders given, he zeroed in on a target and fired. 

“Out of range,” Niles responded.

“Fire, damn it!  They don’t know that!”  Danika hesitated as she fired off several rounds, and then muttered, “Unless they have cyborgs, too.”

“Unlikely,” Seth responded.  “There was nothing in Intel to suggest it.”

“Like they’ve never gotten anything wrong!” Danika snarled, glancing quickly to right and left.  “They’ve damned well got night vision and they’re closing.”

“They are also flanking our position,” Dane reported.

“Shit!  They’re going to cut us off!  What’s it looking like behind us?”

Seth scanned the ridge to the rear with his night vision and then the thermal imaging, discovering neither worked worth a damn under the current conditions.   “The rearward troops have made it to the ridge.  They’ve formed another line to our rear … fifteen meters.”

“Good!” Danika said.  “Our turn to fall back!  Move it!”

She leapt to her feet almost before she finished speaking and immediately caught a projectile that spun her around and threw her face down in the snow.  “Niles!  Dane!” Seth bellowed, surging to his feet and scooping Danika up with one arm.   “Cover our retreat!”

Niles and Dane formed a body shield, jogging backwards and firing. 

Seth caught a projectile in his thigh that brought him to his knees—from the front.  ‘Friendly’ fire—human, he thought, knowing the cyborgs would have known not to fire on them—unless the enemy had already managed to flank them.

Trying to close his mind to the fresh pain, he struggled to his feet again with Danika and charged toward the line of troops.  He managed to make it through the line without catching another round.  Depositing Danika on the ground, he scanned her to locate the wound.  “Medic!  Human wounded!”

There was no response to his call for aid and Seth glanced around with a mixture of fear and anger.  He discovered that they were surrounded by wounded—and damaged cyborgs struggling to function despite the damage they’d sustained.

“We will be outflanked and surrounded, by my calculations, within twenty minutes –earth time.”

His voice sounded strange—strained, and that was almost as odd as his unnecessary reference to earth time since they were all programmed to earth time measurement, but although Seth noticed, he was too intent on pulling up data to attend Danika’s wound to analyze it.  “I need to close this wound and patch Danika’s suit.”  Widening the hole in her suit, he reset his weapon, pinched the wound closed and used the laser to cauterize the flesh, gritting his teeth when she screamed in pain and the sound seemed to cut through him like a knife.  He dragged a patch from his supplies when he’d closed the wound, slapped it over the damaged suit, and held it until the nanos in the material bonded, ignoring Danika’s groans and her attempts to shove his hand away.

The chatter flowing through the com units that Seth listened to as he attended Danika was not good.  Interspersed with dozens of calls for medics and groans and screams from human throats, there were more disastrous observations.

“We’re cut off!”

“Boxed in!”

“Oh my god!  I’m shot all to shit!  I need a medic-borg!”

“They’re going to outflank us!”

“It’ll be like shooting fish in a fucking barrel!”

Abruptly a voice—cool and forceful—cut through the confusion.  “Cyborgs!  Leap to the summit of the ridge!  Carry the humans!”

The sudden, forceful command silenced all other chatter.  It did not come from the command center—the channel was local.  It also did not come from a human, but everyone knew they were running out of time to act and no one questioned the command. 

The cyborgs not too damaged to act on the command lifted their human squad leaders and leapt toward the ridge above them. 

“Who issued that command?” 

That demand came from their commanding officer aboard the mother ship. 

There was a significant pause.  “Reuel CO469.”

* * * *

Despite the intensive conditioning she’d been subjected to when she’d been shipped to combat training, Cpl. Danika Hart was unable to convince herself that she was just experiencing more of the same as the ground to air missile ripped a hole in the drop ship she was in just as it entered the target planet’s atmosphere.  She tried to.  She thought she just might be able to conduct herself in a manner befitting a soldier of the confederation and not shame her native world if she could.  She wasn’t sure she’d be able to if she couldn’t because she was as terrified as she’d ever been in her life.

She hadn’t expected to be thrown immediately into combat, though.  She’d expected to have more time to adjust to being shot at. 

Everyone knew the conditions on Xeno-12 were horrific.  It was a frozen world, just too far from its sun to ever thaw out completely—livable, as long as one was fully prepared for the cold—with a breathable atmosphere, but uninhabited, so she hadn’t been unduly worried.  They would have everything they needed to deal with the deep freeze and her own native world was at the outer habitable zone of its sun.  She was used to dealing with dangerously cold temperatures.

They were to land, set up a forward base as a buffer against the enemy encroachment and protect the true prize, Xeno-12’s sister world. 

She’d thought the war might well come to Xeno-12’s doorstep eventually, but she’d also thought there was a better than even chance that the war would be fought and won far, far from her station. 

She was pretty sure she wasn’t the only who’d thought that. 

The bombardment had deprived her of that illusion.  The bucking ship had shaken her, but she’d convinced herself that it was just rough air—nothing to worry about!  The troop carriers weren’t designed for comfort but rather durability and efficiency—right up until the hole appeared in the side of the ship and shrapnel peppered the troops inside.  She might have nursed her illusions a little longer, despite the disaster and the horror of watching three troopers sucked out, except that she could see flashes through the hole that lit up the sky and knew the entire battalion was under attack.  She saw at least two of the drop ships take direct hits and disintegrate into fiery trails of debris.  It was enough to make her imagination leap to the possibility that they’d reach the ground and discover themselves alone—if they reached it at all.

They’d already taken losses in the hundreds, maybe thousands, and they hadn’t even reached the planet’s surface yet!  It was almost beyond comprehension—far easier to think in terms of numbers than soldiers. 

Were the other battalions being dropped around the planet taking similar fire, she wondered fearfully?  Or were they the unlucky ones being dropped right in the lap of a nest of enemy troops?

And which was worse?  Being the target?  Or discovering the armada had been destroyed and they had ended up marooned on the hellish planet?

“Danika!  Are you alright?  Were you hit?”

The sound of her name penetrated Danika’s shock.  She blinked as if coming awake and searched for the origin, the person who’d spoken, and stared at Seth blankly—Seth CO1543.  He was a cyborg, she thought, struggling to figure out what it was about him that didn’t seem right.  Why was he asking her if she was alright?  Why would it occur to him to ask?  And shouldn’t he have asked for a damage report even if his programming had prompted him to ask?

He looked human—all of the latest cyborgs did—and small wonder when they were constructed of almost fifty percent biological materials.  They looked so human that it would’ve been hard getting used to the idea that they weren’t except they still didn’t behave like humans.  They didn’t speak like humans.  Not only did they have no accents like most humans did that pegged them to various regions, but they used none of the abbreviated speech patterns common to humans, none of the slang or colloquialisms, and they didn’t make idle chatter.  In fact nothing that came out of their mouths bore more than a passing resemblance to conversation.  They responded when spoken to—when a response was needed.  They issued warnings when they detected anything they needed to warn humans of, and otherwise they said nothing at all.

The early autonomous robots, particularly the ones used in warfare, just looked like machines—some roughly humanoid in that they had a head and torso, two arms, two legs, etc. and others more like tanks with heads—but the ‘bare bones’ unclad chassis had design defects.  Two much of their critical mechanics was vulnerable.  The enemy could simply aim for exposed pneumatic tubes or motors and incapacitate them.  Thin armor sheathing came next.  Not only did that create a serious weight issue, though, it gave the human troops the creeps.  They wouldn’t have had a problem if the units weren’t autonomous, but being surrounded by steel monsters that seemed capable of anything—including acting on their own—was too distracting and demoralizing for the human troops.  It had the same effect on the enemy, of course, but since the human ground troops were there to make sure the robots didn’t destroy property that didn’t need to be destroyed or gun down innocent civilians—or go berserk and destroy everything and everyone in sight—the government decided they needed an army that looked more human and could be more easily accepted by their human counterparts.

Synthetic human-like sheathing came next—which opened up a whole new market for the manufacturer—who’d already produced way more robots than they could sell to the government and were looking at a sharp decline of their profits if not total disaster.  The civilian population suddenly saw a need for companions, nannies—entertainment.  The synthetic sheathing just wasn’t quite close enough to human flesh and skin.  Happily, that desire for human flesh coincided nicely with the advances in growing human skin cells—muscles, internal organs—the whole works.  It had actually become far cheaper to use the ‘real’ thing than synthetics and since the cyborgs couldn’t object to and weren’t terrified of nanos like the rest of the population was, they could introduce nanos into the cyborgs to affect repairs.

Not that the company would have objected to making more money off of the government in repairing damaged equipment, but they’d done such an excellent job of convincing the government that their cyborgs were virtually indestructible that the government had demanded a guarantee on the product before they would sign off on the multi-trillion dollar contract. 

It wasn’t just the fact that Seth had asked her if she was alright, though, she realized abruptly. 

One the things that had always unnerved her about working with the cyborgs was the eyes.  They had cold, dead, emotionless eyes.  They managed to replicate some emotion through programming that kept them from being quite so stilted in their interactions, that made it possible a lot of the time to simply interact with them as if they were fellow human soldiers.  They looked and felt human.  As long as they didn’t talk, or confined themselves to one or two word responses and she didn’t look them directly in the eyes, she could pretend her team was just a bunch of recruits just like she was—really big, brawny recruits—but as human as she was, not titanium monsters that could squash her like a bug if their programming was faulty in any way and the notion struck them.   

And yet when she’d met Seth’s gaze, she’d seen everything reflected in them that she was feeling in those moments herself—fear of pain and death. 

But maybe that was it?  Nothing but a reflection of her own fears?  Projected onto him?

She wasn’t entirely convinced, but the realization that she’d been frozen with shock and fear shook her.  She couldn’t afford to let those emotions take the upper hand or she wasn’t going to get out of this alive!

Considering the bombardment, she didn’t know if they were even going to make it to the ground, but she needed to act when and if they did!

She got her second jolt when they were ordered out and she finally made it to the off-ramp—only to discover that they were still a very long way from the ground, not on it, as she’d expected.  Instantly visions of being mangled like a squashed spider when she hit the ground leapt into her mind.  Before she could force her way out of the line or demand to be taken lower, Seth, who was behind her, tightened his grip around her torso and stepped off the damned plank into thin air—really thin air! 

She screamed all the way down.  Fortunately, the landing was enough of a jolt to knock the panic out of her when it deprived her of breath.  Reason reared its head as the snow pack around her was peppered with shots from what seemed every direction.  Her conditioning took over—thankfully. 

The landscape was so starkly white with ice and snow that it almost seemed to glow in the moonlight that bathed it.  As she rolled over and scanned her surroundings in one swift, sweep, she saw that the virtually flat plane she’d landed on was littered with black dots of all shapes and sizes—burning debris from the landers that didn’t make it to the drop in one piece, and bodies, some moving, some eerily still.  A black bowl of sky capped the nearly featureless landscape. 

She couldn’t tell where the enemy position was! 

It didn’t help that she couldn’t see a damned thing once her team decided to form a wall around her—to protect her!  What were they thinking?  They were supposed to be shooting at the damned enemy!

Fight or die, she told herself!  The enemy had them pinned down.  What to do?  Retreat?

Not unless ordered—unfortunately—but she had to struggle with her flight instincts.

Thankfully, the thought had no sooner entered her mind than she heard the command.

Except she was at the front and supposed to lay down fire for those in the rear to drop back. 

Fight or die!

She finally managed to spot a flash that gave away an enemy position.  Once she began returning fire, she was able to focus on trying to eliminate everyone firing at her.  She didn’t realize how anxious she was for her turn to drop back until the moment she’d been waiting for came.  A new line had been formed and her team could drop back and take up a position a little further from the enemy.

Yelling for her team to drop back, she leapt to her feet—stupid move!  The projectile that slammed into her and smacked her down again drove that home!  Blackness swarmed over her.  She was in so much pain it took her a few minutes to figure out what had happened.  By the time she did, Seth had scooped her up under one arm and was racing across the plane.  The jarring raised her pain level until oblivion claimed her.  When she came to, she felt hands tugging at her suit.  Her mind struggled for a moment to make sense of what was happening and finally produced the conviction that she was being attended by a medic. 

Thank god!  She wasn’t going to die—yet. 

Needing assurance, she opened her eyes with an effort, managed to focus—and then got the shock of her life.  Seth was manhandling her—not a medic-borg! 

She didn’t even manage to say no before he set her on fire with the damned laser!  And she was in too much pain after that to berate him. 

She needed to get up and fight.  She was aware enough of her surroundings to realize the firefight had intensified, could hear the sounds of battle through the open channel that provided communications for the force on the ground and the dull, muted sounds of intense fighting that penetrated her protective helmet.  With a supreme effort of will, she managed to move her arms and hands—or the uninjured one anyway—in a blind search for her weapon.  She didn’t find it and the fear of discovering she was unarmed sent a torrent of adrenaline through her that was powerful enough to enable her to roll onto her stomach and perform a wider search.  “My weapon.  Where’s my weapon?”

“I have it.”

It was Niles who responded—she thought.  “Well give it to me, damn it!”

“You have sustained damage, squad leader, Danika.”

“Like I don’t fucking know that when my whole right side is on fire!  Give me the damned thing!” she yelled at him with a mixture of fury and terror.

“Time to fall back again,” Seth responded, scooping her up and launching into another bone shaking run that made her pass out again. 

When Danika regained consciousness, she found herself looking up at a sheer, white wall of ice.  She stared at it blankly, trying to figure out where it had come from when she certainly hadn’t noticed it earlier when she’d surveyed the plane they’d landed on.

Apparently, no one else had noticed it either when they’d been given the order to fall back—except the enemy, because they’d driven them back against a wall of ice they had no hope of scaling.  They weren’t equipped for climbing.

They were all going to die—right in this godforsaken spot!

Strategically speaking, they were fucked!

Danika roused herself to make another demand for her weapon just as she heard the command—directed at the cyborgs. 

Seth scooped her up and tilted his head back to gauge the distance.

Not that she didn’t think it was a damned good idea for him to make some calculations before he attempted it, but he made one hell of a target!  Miraculously, although projectiles whizzed past them, none made their target … until the very moment Seth crouched to launch the two of them.  As he sprang up again, shooting them skyward, she heard him grunt and felt him jerk with an impact. 

They weren’t going to make it, she thought in dismay!  It was further, she was sure, than the drop from the ship had been and she’d been convinced he couldn’t make that leap and remain operational. 

Chapter Two

Seth more or less fell over the top of the precipice.  Barely clearing the edge, he pitched himself and her forward in a roll.

Fully expecting to be crushed, Danika was too stunned to move for several moments after Seth stopped rolling, waiting in vain for the pain of crushed and mangled body to reach the nerve centers in her brain, regardless of the fact that she was sprawled on top of Seth when he finally stopped rolling. 

Realizing after a few moments that she wasn’t dead or dying, she lifted her head and studied his face.  He was staring up at the sky above them and she felt a jolt of fear run through her.  Was he dead?  Uh—destroyed?  “Seth?”

He blinked at the sound of her voice and shifted his gaze to her face.  For a long moment, their gazes seemed locked and in that moment Danika saw, or thought she saw, something she should not have seen in the eyes of a cyborg—pain and relief.

It shook her almost as much as the fear that he’d ceased to function altogether and left her stranded on the godforsaken ball of ice alone. 

Which was something that shouldn’t have occurred to her at all! 

She was used to working with her team—her squad—and she was fond of them—in much the same sense as a person could come to rely on and become attached to any labor saving device, she assured herself.  But she wouldn’t be alone even if he was destroyed!   There were other soldiers—human soldiers.  And the fact was that she was alone even when she was surrounded by her team because she was the only real person among them.

Get a grip, girl! “Damage report,” she said finally, pushing herself off of him with an effort and looking around for her other team mates.  Niles, she saw, was crouched beside them, firing toward the enemy line.  Dane was nowhere in sight and she recalled abruptly, with a touch of panic, that his mobility had been impaired when the drop ship had been damaged.  Scrambling toward the edge of the precipice, she looked down.  She had a split second to register the disaster below and discover that Dane was dangling by one arm from the side of the ice cliff and then a hand curled around one of her ankles and she felt herself dragged backwards. 

Twisting her head, she saw it was Seth who had hold of her ankle.

He was glaring at her.  “You will get your head shot off!”

Stunned at the display of anger, Danika blinked several times, gaping at him.  She was far more preoccupied with the scene her mind had captured, however.  It looked like fully half of their force—maybe more—was trapped below—maimed, wounded, or already dead, and the enemy was advancing and systematically executing anybody who hadn’t managed to escape the trap.  She barely noticed when he released his hold and crawled to the edge of the precipice to look down as she had.

“Can you climb?”

“The mobility of my left arm is compromised.  I will try.”

“Niles and I will try to cover you,” Seth responded, turning to summon Niles with a hand motion.

Indignation flickered through Danika, piercing her shock.  She was the squad leader, damn it!  She was supposed to be leading the team!  She was obliged to admit after a very little thought, though, that she couldn’t think of anything better to try.  It wasn’t as if they could haul Dane’s heavy ass up the cliff!

Well, she supposed Seth and Niles could … if they had a rope of some kind, which she knew damned well she didn’t have in her pack.  He was going to have to make it on his own—or not.  Gritting her teeth against the pain from her wound, she crawled to the edge again on her belly.  Seth stopped firing long enough to plant a hand on the top of her helmet and shove her back.  “Stay!” he growled.

Danika sloughed the snow off her face shield and glared at him with a mixture of disbelief and anger.  Before she could think of how to respond to his order, however, she saw a hand appear above the rim.  Seth put his weapon down and grasped the hand, hauling Dane over the edge. 

No one, Danika realized abruptly, had given her a damage report!  AI or not, they were supposed to be at her command!

Granted, they’d been busy, but they were cyborgs!  It wasn’t as if they weren’t capable of handling multiple tasks! 

“Disengage the enemy and fall back to secure weapons and supply drop, coordinates 3 degrees 47 minutes North West; 14 degrees South ….”

Danika listened while the orders were repeated through the GO—general orders—channel—minus the coordinates.  “How far is that, Seth?”

“Thirty clicks.”

“Shit!”  That would’ve been a long ass distance under a hell of a lot better conditions—terrain-wise.  And all of them were wounded—or damaged!   She was wounded!  They were damaged.  “Damage report.”

Before any of her teammates could respond, they heard an exchange between a junior officer on the ground and the command center.  “Acknowledge receipt.  The Lieutenant Colonel and staff all dead or missing.  We’ve sustained heavy casualties.  We need an immediate evac.  That’s a no go on reaching the supply drop at coordinates ….”

“Who the hell are you, you idiot?” someone roared, cutting the speaker off before he could finish.  “Use the CO channel!”

“Somebody just got busted,” Danika muttered.  Clearly she wasn’t the only one that had just had her first taste of the real thing and was having problems remembering training—Not that she was rattled enough to forget that that sort of information shouldn’t be passed through anything but the CO—command operations—channel!  They were going to be damned lucky if the enemy hadn’t picked up that damaging Intel!  “Not that it looks like he’s going to have to worry about it.  I doubt there’s going to be an evac and I’m guessing you guys saw what I did at the base of the cliff.  The enemy is advancing and it doesn’t look like they plan to take prisoners. You guys think you can make it to the drop?”  She asked when she’d done a visual and discovered that the cyborgs had taken far more damage than she had. 

She didn’t think they had time to wait for their nanos to make any sort of repairs.  She didn’t think it was pure luck that the enemy had pounded the hell out of them and driven them back against a wall.  Their objective might have been to outflank them and close the fist, but she thought there was a good chance that they’d known about the ridge to start with and the confederation forces had reacted just as the enemy had hoped.  That might also mean that the enemy knew of a route up the escarpment or had forces closing on them now from the rear.

From the chatter on the local communications channel, she thought most everyone that had survived—so far—was beginning to get the picture.

“We can’t just leave our people down there!”

“We can’t do anything else. If we don’t get to that supply drop before the enemy we’re going to be in the same shape they are!”

“Where’s air support?”

“Where are the med-evacs?”

“You’re saying you think they’re tied up in another battle?”

“What the hell kind of Intel is that?  There wasn’t supposed to be any resistance here!”

They complained and speculated for the first half hour while the remnants of the companies that made up their battalion struggled through almost knee deep snow, but they discovered they’d walked right into a blinding snow storm and nobody had the energy to waste on talking anymore after the storm hit them.   It was all they could do to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping tabs on the rest of the group to keep from getting lost.

They were about half way between the ridge everybody was beginning to refer to as slaughter ridge and the drop site when a series of massive explosions prompted them to hit the ground.  It only took them a few moments to realize that the bombardment wasn’t close enough to be an immediate threat.

Long term was another matter.

“Oh my god!  We are so fucked!  That was the supplies that just went up in smoke!”

“Would you just shut the fuck up!”

“I don’t know which one of you stupid fucks gave the coordinates away, but you’re going to be a dead mother fucker if I get my hands on you!”

“Why doesn’t everybody just shut the fuck up?” Danika yelled angrily.  “He didn’t get the chance to give away the exact coordinates.  My guess is that either none of the channels are as secure as we thought or they didn’t need the coordinates.  It sure as hell didn’t take them long to get there.”

“Hey!  We don’t know that it was our supplies!  Could be another group taking a pounding.”

Danika glanced at her team questioningly, feeling a ray of hope.  It died when Seth shook his head.  “That is the coordinates we were given.”

“I guess we’d better hump it, then,” she said tiredly, “and see what we can salvage.  I have a bad feeling we’re going to need anything we can find.”

There wasn’t much to salvage.  It looked as if the bombardment had been a long range effort, however, and when they’d rested briefly and began to sort through the debris that had cooled enough to allow for a search, they began to find a few useable supplies.  Danika supposed they should just be grateful that the enemy didn’t seem to have the technical capabilities of the confederation or they would’ve been completely screwed. 

Or maybe it was more a matter of being spread too thin and not having the munitions they needed to totally annihilate the confederation troops?

By her, admittedly, rough calculations, the armada that had brought them had been carrying a force of nearly a half a million—counting cyborgs—which she’d considered actually counted as more than a single soldier since they were many times stronger than their human counterparts.  That was the main reason she hadn’t been unduly nervous about the mission.  As far as anyone knew—or at least had been told—there weren’t any enemy bases on Xeno-12. 

Clearly, the confederation thought they’d been clever in not declaring war until they’d nearly reached the planet they planned to take and hold since it offered the most strategic advantage in protecting the confederation’s interests in this system. 

Either they hadn’t been clever enough, though, or the enemy was smarter than they’d given them credit for. 

Or the grunts like her just hadn’t been important enough to get the memo.  The only warning they’d had was to expect the possibility of pockets of resistance.  They sure as hell hadn’t expected such a ferocious, focused attack that they wouldn’t even be able to organize a counterstrike once they got on the ground!

They hadn’t been able to pull themselves together at all!  It had been a total rout!  

She had a bad feeling, though, that the lack of action by the fleet meant that the disaster her battalion had experienced on landing wasn’t isolated.  The only explanation that she could think of for the lack of air support, med-evac, or complete evacuation was that the entire force was under attack and unable to lend support. 

So maybe it hadn’t been a brilliant military tactic to spread their own forces so thin?  Granted it was a big planet and she could see why they wanted to be sure they had enough forces on the ground globally to repel any attempts by the enemy to sneak in the backdoor, but they shouldn’t have just assumed they’d beat the enemy to the planet to start with. 

Arrogance, she thought angrily as she scratched through a pile of debris!  The arrogant bastards had been so damned sure they were infinitely superior to their enemy, the Andorians, that they were going to be lucky if they didn’t lose the war in this one campaign.