Free As You Wish by Jennifer Malin Page A

Cantrell.  I could not help noticing that you wear a diamond.  Are you betrothed?”
    She lifted her hand and looked at her fingers, shocked to realize she hadn’t thought of the ring or the giver since she’d arrived in the past.  Even during her brush with death, Kevin’s face hadn’t come to her, only those of her parents.  This must have been the longest stretch of time in years that she’d gone without thinking of Kevin.
    “Miss Cantrell?”  David sat waiting for an answer.
    “No, I’m not engaged,” she murmured, moving her hand back into her lap.  “This is a friendship ring.”
    “Here in England,” Lady Solebury said, “such rings are usually woven from a lock of hair.  Exchanging gold rings with stones must be an American custom.  Is that indeed a diamond, Miss Cantrell?”
    “Only a chip,” she said, preoccupied by her thoughts.  How could she forget Kevin?  Not that he was likely to be thinking much about her.  He’d just broken up with her, after all--but she’d been sure they’d get back together again.  Now, they might never see each other again.
    She barely noticed the homemade peach ice cream served for dessert, though everyone else made a fuss about it.  She felt too much guilt to enjoy anything.  What kind of woman forgot about a three-year relationship in the middle of a life crisis?  How could she possibly have passed more than a full day without longing for the comfort of Kevin’s arms?
    “Are you feeling unwell again?” a soft male voice beside her asked, and she looked into David’s black eyes with a start.  “You’ve barely touched your ice.”
    His tone alone sent her heart racing, and she realized the answer to her question looked her right in the face.  She hated herself for her own shallowness, but the fact was that David Traymore’s presence had chased all thoughts of Kevin out of her head.
    She gave her Byronic rescuer an unsteady smile.  “I’m still not quite sure of myself.  I think I’d best take things slowly for awhile.”
    What an understatement, she thought, as she finally dipped into her dessert.  In this bizarre parallel universe, every step she took seemed to put her on more dangerous footing.
     

CHAPTER SIX
     
    “Thank goodness Miss Cantrell has begun to open up,” Phoebe said to David.  She looked across the drawing room, where the young woman sat with Lord Solebury and the Harlowes.  “Still, I fancy there is more to her story than she willingly admits.”
    “Unquestionably.”  He watched Leah (he could only think of her by her given name now) as she laughed at something his father said.  Her eyes sparkled, and Solebury grinned back, clearly entranced.  David rolled his own eyes and forced his attention to Phoebe.  “You, too, noticed the flaw in her story?”
    “The flaw?”  Her gaze darted to his.  “Why, no.  I only observed that she spoke in a halting manner.  What did she say that you found amiss?”
    “She failed to explain a rather important point.  According to her story, she fell into the spring while trying to get a drink, but when I found her she was wearing only a shift.  I don’t know of many young ladies who travel in such a state of deshabille , do you?”
    “Oh, David, I forgot about that.”  Phoebe put a hand up over her mouth.  “Good Lord, there is only one conclusion to draw.  She must have been ravished.  The thought is too dreadful, but it would explain everything--her disoriented state of mind, the fact that we could not find the rest of her clothing near the spring . . .  even the motive behind her act of desperation.  Oh, David, that poor, poor girl!”
    “I don’t know, Phoebe.”  He swallowed the sick lump that rose in his throat, even thought he’d already considered the same possibility.  “She suffered no bruises, and her shift had not even a rent.  I think that sort of a struggle would leave more physical evidence.”
    “Perhaps.”  The marchioness looked