FF: Time After Time | Warehouse 13 | HG/Myka | NC-17 | Part 6
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Myka had waited as long as practically possible before finally stepping from the confines of her room to join the party downstairs. It had taken several tries, and her memory from high school as a theatre tech, but she’d finally managed a decent bow tie to match the tuxedo. Stealing herself, she headed downstairs, her stomach lured by the smell of sweet pastries and delicious meats even as she repeated over and over you can do this, you can do this, you can do this.
Once more, she helped Lady Ainesworth receive and welcome guests, and was grateful for it as it kept her away from the food and dancing, and anyone who might want a conversation with her. It also kept her well away from Helena, which seemed both a blessing and a curse.
The guests received, Myka escorted Lady Ainesworth into the ballroom for the first dance. It was a polka this time, something Myka barely hobbled through without doing too much damage to Lady Ainesworth’s toes. From the looks on the other guest’s faces, Myka doubted any of the women would be hoping she asked them to dance.
Marbury smirked at her as she left the dance floor and snagged a glass of champagne off a servant’s tray. “Fine performance,” he laughed, nudging her none-too-gently in the ribs. “Your mother always said you had two left feet.”
“And I don’t know what to do with either of them.”
Marbury laughed again. “I’m going to miss you, boyo. I know I haven’t been around much since your father passed, but you know if there is anything you need, you have only to ask.”
“Thank you. That means a great deal to me.”
Marbury began to speak, and then thought better of it when he saw Charles approach. Charles saw the look on Marbury’s face but kept approaching, undeterred. Myka had to hand it to the man - he didn’t give up easily.
“Viscount, Lord Marbury. I hope you’re enjoying your evening thus far?”
“It’s been pleasant enough,” Marbury answered tightly, pointedly not returning the question.
“I was wondering, Viscount, if you had had a chance to consider my business proposal further?”
One raised eyebrow from Marbury had Myka glaring daggers at Charles. She didn’t need anyone questioning her tonight, of all nights. “I’m still considering it.”
“A toast then,” Charles offered, “to business and its considerations.”
Myka clinked her glass against his reluctantly and drank. Marbury’s enquiring look turned calculating, but he waited until Charles stepped away to pounce. “Tell me you’re not thinking about investing in anything that man is proposing.”
“Of course not,” Myka answered honestly. “But I see no reason to disappoint him. Yet.”
“My God, you must care about Miss Wells if you’re willing to put up with that man. He’s insufferable.”
“It’s a cruel twist of fate that puts the brilliant mind of Helena Wells in the body of a woman with very little rights or power.”
“You’ll be an MP soon enough,” Marbury smirked. “Perhaps you should try to change the rules, eh?”
“Change the rules,” Myka echoed, a shiver coursing through her body making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “Change the rules.”
Across the room she watched as Charles pulled Helena to the side, his hand locked on her arm as he whispered something harshly in her ear. Helena glared back at him and then her eyes darted away, searching the room until they landed squarely on Myka, and for the first time Myka realized what had been lingering behind Helena’s mask all day: fear. Not of her brother, per se, but something worse. Something more heartbreaking. A wild animal facing the very real possibility of becoming caged. Trapped. And that was something Myka simply wouldn’t allow.
“Excuse me, my Lord.”
She strode through the crowd, her eyes locked on Helena’s, never wavering as other’s tried to catch her attention and failed. Charles sensed Myka’s approach a moment before her arrival and quickly released Helena’s arm. Even in the candlelight and gas lamps Myka could see the red marks of his grip still on Helena’s arm.
Charles forced a bright smile. “Viscount, did you wish to speak with me?”
“No,” Myka answered icily through clenched teeth. “I have no desire to speak with you.” She extended her hand to Helena, palm up, offering. “Miss Wells, would you do me the honor of a dance?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, some silent consideration and calculation Myka could only guess at. Slowly, Helena reached out and took Myka’s hand, curtsying, and let Myka lead her onto the dance floor.
“Fair warning,” Myka whispered, “I’m a terrible dancer.”
“You could always let me lead,” Helena offered with a sly smile.
“Now, that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
The music started for a mid-tempo quadrille, the first few steps lost as Myka let Helena position herself in the lead, but then they were moving, stepping, turning in time to the music in a fairly graceful arc and weave with the other couple in the quadrille. It was a short dance, thankfully, followed immediately by a waltz.
Myka sighed in relief. “Now, this I can manage.”
She stepped closer to Helena. Hand on waist, hand in hand, Myka realized absently the striking picture the tall form of William Cross must have painted with the beautiful Helena Wells as his partner. But none of that mattered as Helena inched just a bit closer, her eyes never leaving Myka’s as the music began to play.
Step, slide, box, turn…
They moved in time to the music, the rest of the room fading away as Myka stared into Helena’s eyes.
“Your brother-”
“Is an ass. You were being kind considering his offer. If that was for my sake, thank you.”
Step, slide, box, turn…
“What will you do, tomorrow, the day after, when I’m gone?”
“Do you want me to tell you I’ll cry?”
Step, slide, box, turn…
“I want you to tell me you’ll be alright.”
“I’ll be alright.”
Step, slide, box, turn…
“Tell me what you’ll do.”
“I’ll do what all women my age do: I’ll find a rich man and marry him.”
Step, slide, box, turn…
“He’d force you to marry someone?”
“Society forces me to marry someone. My brother simply restricts my options for doing so. ‘Tis better a cage of my own choosing, then to live under his thumb while he brings about our ruin.”
Step, slide, box, turn…
“The thought of you with anyone else…”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Step, slide, box, turn…
“I want to keep them.”
“Then let that be enough… for it’s all we have.”
The music ended, and with it, the spell that seemed to be woven around them.
The guests clapped politely. Myka stared at Helena, her heart breaking with each painfully indrawn breath.
Helena curtsied, her voice cracking as she said, “Thank you for the dance, my Lord.”
And then she was gone: Lost into the crowd as a large group dance began. Myka pushed through the press of strangers, catching a glimpse of Helena as she stepped out of the ballroom to the veranda. She knew she shouldn’t follow, knew that where it would lead there would be no returning from, but as it had been from the very beginning, there was no telling her heart ‘no’ when it wanted something. Right now, all her heart wanted was HG Wells.
The veranda was empty. Myka looked around in the lamp light and shadows of the party but found nothing. In the distance she saw the blur of movement, a woman running, and knew it was Helena. Myka sprinted after her.
She chased her across the lawn toward the gardens, losing and then finding her again amongst the manicured shrubs. “Helena! Wait!” But the brunette kept running, finally slowing down as she reached the same spot they’d picnicked in just that afternoon beside the greenhouse. “Helena!”
“What do you want from me,” Helena demanded, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight with unshed tears. Rank and propriety forgotten, she fixed Myka with a heartbreaking stare. “We know the limitations. Why must you push? What good will it do either of us?”
“You’re right,” Myka admitted, closing the distance between them. “I can’t make promises. I leave tomorrow and there is no guarantee of my return.”
“Then why won’t you just walk away?”
Myka reached up, brushing away one of the few tears that had dared to cascade down Helena’s cheek. She knew she shouldn’t be there, knew that there could be consequences beyond her reckoning. And she knew that Helena saw her as she was - William Cross - not as herself. While her mind told her, warned her, to hold back, her heart begged her to answer truly, to confess all that she was feeling. To leave nothing unsaid, as she had too many times before. “Because I would rather have one night with you then spend the rest of my life regretting what could have been.” Myka inched closer, her other hand reaching up to cup Helena’s cheeks, keeping the other woman from looking anywhere but at her. At the truth in her eyes. Pain-soaked and desperate, when Myka spoke she offered her words as confession and plea to whatever gods or trick of fate that had brought her to this moment. “I have spent too many years full of regrets. If I can have nothing else, please, let me have this. Please.”
It was one of the few things within Helena’s powers to grant and she had no desire to deny such an ardent plea, or such an obviously broken heart. She reached up, fingers threading into Myka’s thick hair. What hesitation that was left was pushed aside, the last delicate threads of restraint breaking under the strain of want and need as Helena kissed her.
Hands fisting in Helena’s hair, she let down the pins keeping the dark mass in an elegant French twist and let it cascade of Helena’s bare shoulders. Just one night, Myka promised herself. Just one night. Under a canopy of stars Myka held Helena tight, kissing her with a desperation that had been locked away beneath pragmatism and necessity. She moved them back, still kissing, never breaking for more than a moment’s breath, until Helena was pressed back against the greenhouse.
“Inside,” Helena muttered between kisses, both of them fighting with the door handle until it released and granted entry.
It was warm inside, pleasantly filled with the scent of lilac and rosemary, the moonlight filtered through the glazed window panes. Discarded blankets and gardening sacks supplied their bed as clothes were shed, dropped carelessly to the dirt strewn floor. Myka’s nimble fingers tripped and fumbled over hooks and buttons no one in the twenty-first century had to deal with on a regular basis as she helped strip Helena of skirt and petticoats, corset and chemise. Helena managed to get Myka’s clothes off with far less trouble, but no less urgency.
Together they moved, skin on skin. The body was not her own, the responses, the urges, all foreign, but it changed nothing. She still craved Helena’s touch, longed for her taste, and reveled in both over and over. She tasted, consumed, mapped every inch of Helena’s skin with lips and teeth and tongue, driving Helena higher with each caress, each touch, until she simply shattered and cried out in release.
Only then did Myka let herself go, following every primal urge, every instinct to plunge, to dive, to join their bodies as one. Helena gasped with every delicious movement, urging Myka on with each moan, each arch, each scratch and bite and taste until pushed to the heights of pleasure, she crashed over the edge again, this time bringing Myka over with her.
In the humid darkness, Myka pulled Helena too her, strong arms wrapped protectively around her lover. Her heart pounded solidly in her chest, echoing the pace of Helena’s own as she snuggled deeper into Myka’s embrace.
“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone?”
Myka kissed Helena’s neck, smiling. “I don’t care if they have.” She brushed her fingers through Helena’s hair, sweeping it off her forehead before kissing her tenderly. “Stay with me tonight,” Myka whispered. “Just let me hold you.”
Helena closed her eyes. “I wish I could stop time. Or go back… go back and find a way to give us more time. Do you think someday they’ll find a way to do that?”
Yes, she wanted to answer. Yes, someday there will be time travel and it will be you that makes it work. But the words remained unsaid. Myka swallowed hard, hot tears springing to her eyes. She blinked them away, cleared her throat. “I think if you want something badly enough, Helena, you’ll find a way to accomplish it.”
“Maybe I will.”
~*~
No one had come looking for them, or at least they hadn’t come looking in the greenhouse.
And it was just as well, for neither Myka nor Helena would have noticed. They made love again, slowly, memorizing every curve, every strong plane of each other’s bodies until curiosity and memory were sated with sensation. Those quiet hours they filled with soft moans and unhurried kisses, as if there was no tomorrow, even as they knew it came far too quickly.
In the grey light of morning, they cuddled together, clothes strewn over them in makeshift blankets. They didn’t speak much, didn’t need to, for there was very little left to say. Instead, they held each other and let the silence fortify them for the onslaught to come.
When daylight finally chased away the last vestiges of night they got up and dressed.
“What time is your ferry?”
“Three o’clock.” Myka brushed a hand through her hair and handed Helena one of the ribbons that had fallen from her hair. “Come with me to Dover? See me off?”
“You are a glutton for punishment,” Helena teased darkly.
“I can’t help it,” Myka answered, pulling Helena close, “I want every last second I can with you.” She kissed her softly. “Please?”
“It’s a good thing you’re leaving… I’m not sure I’m prepared to live a life where you always convince me to act against my instincts.”
“I promise to only use my power for good, not evil.”
Helena laughed. “I’m not sure I can make the same promise.”
Myka swallowed hard. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll always manage to do the right thing in the end.”
Helena leaned up, kissing the corner of Myka’s mouth. “Well, I’d hope so darling.”
~*~
The house was silent when they entered, everyone apparently still sleeping off the previous evening’s activities. Helena silently opened Charles bedroom door to find him passed out across the bed, a bottle of brandy on the floor just out of reach. She shut the door and moved onto her own room where Myka was lingering at the threshold.
“If people ask…?”
“I went for a walk, you escorted me and unfortunately fell ill again. We took shelter until you were feeling well enough to walk again and simply fell asleep waiting.”
“That’s quite the explanation.”
Helena smirked. “Please, it barely does my imagination justice with its simplicity. If you’d like I could throw something in about highway bandits, or a creature of the night?”
“No,” Myka laughed, “no, please. I don’t think I’d be able to keep a straight face if you did.” She took a chance and leaned in to kiss her one more time. “You should put that imagination to good use someday.”
“Creating plausible stories to excuse romantic rendezvous?”
“As a writer.”
“What?”
“You have the most interesting mind I’ve ever had the pleasure of crossing paths with, Helena. All of that imagination and intelligence shouldn’t go to waste in the pages of your diary.” Myka reached up and cupped Helena’s cheek. “You’re meant for so much more than that.”
Helena leaned into her touch. “You keep saying things like that and I won’t let you get on that boat.”
Which they both knew had to happen. Reluctantly, Myka pulled her hand away. “I need to pack.”
“I’ll see you at brunch.”
They pulled apart, each to their own room, the doors shutting softly after them.
Part Seven
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Myka had waited as long as practically possible before finally stepping from the confines of her room to join the party downstairs. It had taken several tries, and her memory from high school as a theatre tech, but she’d finally managed a decent bow tie to match the tuxedo. Stealing herself, she headed downstairs, her stomach lured by the smell of sweet pastries and delicious meats even as she repeated over and over you can do this, you can do this, you can do this.
Once more, she helped Lady Ainesworth receive and welcome guests, and was grateful for it as it kept her away from the food and dancing, and anyone who might want a conversation with her. It also kept her well away from Helena, which seemed both a blessing and a curse.
The guests received, Myka escorted Lady Ainesworth into the ballroom for the first dance. It was a polka this time, something Myka barely hobbled through without doing too much damage to Lady Ainesworth’s toes. From the looks on the other guest’s faces, Myka doubted any of the women would be hoping she asked them to dance.
Marbury smirked at her as she left the dance floor and snagged a glass of champagne off a servant’s tray. “Fine performance,” he laughed, nudging her none-too-gently in the ribs. “Your mother always said you had two left feet.”
“And I don’t know what to do with either of them.”
Marbury laughed again. “I’m going to miss you, boyo. I know I haven’t been around much since your father passed, but you know if there is anything you need, you have only to ask.”
“Thank you. That means a great deal to me.”
Marbury began to speak, and then thought better of it when he saw Charles approach. Charles saw the look on Marbury’s face but kept approaching, undeterred. Myka had to hand it to the man - he didn’t give up easily.
“Viscount, Lord Marbury. I hope you’re enjoying your evening thus far?”
“It’s been pleasant enough,” Marbury answered tightly, pointedly not returning the question.
“I was wondering, Viscount, if you had had a chance to consider my business proposal further?”
One raised eyebrow from Marbury had Myka glaring daggers at Charles. She didn’t need anyone questioning her tonight, of all nights. “I’m still considering it.”
“A toast then,” Charles offered, “to business and its considerations.”
Myka clinked her glass against his reluctantly and drank. Marbury’s enquiring look turned calculating, but he waited until Charles stepped away to pounce. “Tell me you’re not thinking about investing in anything that man is proposing.”
“Of course not,” Myka answered honestly. “But I see no reason to disappoint him. Yet.”
“My God, you must care about Miss Wells if you’re willing to put up with that man. He’s insufferable.”
“It’s a cruel twist of fate that puts the brilliant mind of Helena Wells in the body of a woman with very little rights or power.”
“You’ll be an MP soon enough,” Marbury smirked. “Perhaps you should try to change the rules, eh?”
“Change the rules,” Myka echoed, a shiver coursing through her body making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “Change the rules.”
Across the room she watched as Charles pulled Helena to the side, his hand locked on her arm as he whispered something harshly in her ear. Helena glared back at him and then her eyes darted away, searching the room until they landed squarely on Myka, and for the first time Myka realized what had been lingering behind Helena’s mask all day: fear. Not of her brother, per se, but something worse. Something more heartbreaking. A wild animal facing the very real possibility of becoming caged. Trapped. And that was something Myka simply wouldn’t allow.
“Excuse me, my Lord.”
She strode through the crowd, her eyes locked on Helena’s, never wavering as other’s tried to catch her attention and failed. Charles sensed Myka’s approach a moment before her arrival and quickly released Helena’s arm. Even in the candlelight and gas lamps Myka could see the red marks of his grip still on Helena’s arm.
Charles forced a bright smile. “Viscount, did you wish to speak with me?”
“No,” Myka answered icily through clenched teeth. “I have no desire to speak with you.” She extended her hand to Helena, palm up, offering. “Miss Wells, would you do me the honor of a dance?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, some silent consideration and calculation Myka could only guess at. Slowly, Helena reached out and took Myka’s hand, curtsying, and let Myka lead her onto the dance floor.
“Fair warning,” Myka whispered, “I’m a terrible dancer.”
“You could always let me lead,” Helena offered with a sly smile.
“Now, that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
The music started for a mid-tempo quadrille, the first few steps lost as Myka let Helena position herself in the lead, but then they were moving, stepping, turning in time to the music in a fairly graceful arc and weave with the other couple in the quadrille. It was a short dance, thankfully, followed immediately by a waltz.
Myka sighed in relief. “Now, this I can manage.”
She stepped closer to Helena. Hand on waist, hand in hand, Myka realized absently the striking picture the tall form of William Cross must have painted with the beautiful Helena Wells as his partner. But none of that mattered as Helena inched just a bit closer, her eyes never leaving Myka’s as the music began to play.
Step, slide, box, turn…
They moved in time to the music, the rest of the room fading away as Myka stared into Helena’s eyes.
“Your brother-”
“Is an ass. You were being kind considering his offer. If that was for my sake, thank you.”
Step, slide, box, turn…
“What will you do, tomorrow, the day after, when I’m gone?”
“Do you want me to tell you I’ll cry?”
Step, slide, box, turn…
“I want you to tell me you’ll be alright.”
“I’ll be alright.”
Step, slide, box, turn…
“Tell me what you’ll do.”
“I’ll do what all women my age do: I’ll find a rich man and marry him.”
Step, slide, box, turn…
“He’d force you to marry someone?”
“Society forces me to marry someone. My brother simply restricts my options for doing so. ‘Tis better a cage of my own choosing, then to live under his thumb while he brings about our ruin.”
Step, slide, box, turn…
“The thought of you with anyone else…”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Step, slide, box, turn…
“I want to keep them.”
“Then let that be enough… for it’s all we have.”
The music ended, and with it, the spell that seemed to be woven around them.
The guests clapped politely. Myka stared at Helena, her heart breaking with each painfully indrawn breath.
Helena curtsied, her voice cracking as she said, “Thank you for the dance, my Lord.”
And then she was gone: Lost into the crowd as a large group dance began. Myka pushed through the press of strangers, catching a glimpse of Helena as she stepped out of the ballroom to the veranda. She knew she shouldn’t follow, knew that where it would lead there would be no returning from, but as it had been from the very beginning, there was no telling her heart ‘no’ when it wanted something. Right now, all her heart wanted was HG Wells.
The veranda was empty. Myka looked around in the lamp light and shadows of the party but found nothing. In the distance she saw the blur of movement, a woman running, and knew it was Helena. Myka sprinted after her.
She chased her across the lawn toward the gardens, losing and then finding her again amongst the manicured shrubs. “Helena! Wait!” But the brunette kept running, finally slowing down as she reached the same spot they’d picnicked in just that afternoon beside the greenhouse. “Helena!”
“What do you want from me,” Helena demanded, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight with unshed tears. Rank and propriety forgotten, she fixed Myka with a heartbreaking stare. “We know the limitations. Why must you push? What good will it do either of us?”
“You’re right,” Myka admitted, closing the distance between them. “I can’t make promises. I leave tomorrow and there is no guarantee of my return.”
“Then why won’t you just walk away?”
Myka reached up, brushing away one of the few tears that had dared to cascade down Helena’s cheek. She knew she shouldn’t be there, knew that there could be consequences beyond her reckoning. And she knew that Helena saw her as she was - William Cross - not as herself. While her mind told her, warned her, to hold back, her heart begged her to answer truly, to confess all that she was feeling. To leave nothing unsaid, as she had too many times before. “Because I would rather have one night with you then spend the rest of my life regretting what could have been.” Myka inched closer, her other hand reaching up to cup Helena’s cheeks, keeping the other woman from looking anywhere but at her. At the truth in her eyes. Pain-soaked and desperate, when Myka spoke she offered her words as confession and plea to whatever gods or trick of fate that had brought her to this moment. “I have spent too many years full of regrets. If I can have nothing else, please, let me have this. Please.”
It was one of the few things within Helena’s powers to grant and she had no desire to deny such an ardent plea, or such an obviously broken heart. She reached up, fingers threading into Myka’s thick hair. What hesitation that was left was pushed aside, the last delicate threads of restraint breaking under the strain of want and need as Helena kissed her.
Hands fisting in Helena’s hair, she let down the pins keeping the dark mass in an elegant French twist and let it cascade of Helena’s bare shoulders. Just one night, Myka promised herself. Just one night. Under a canopy of stars Myka held Helena tight, kissing her with a desperation that had been locked away beneath pragmatism and necessity. She moved them back, still kissing, never breaking for more than a moment’s breath, until Helena was pressed back against the greenhouse.
“Inside,” Helena muttered between kisses, both of them fighting with the door handle until it released and granted entry.
It was warm inside, pleasantly filled with the scent of lilac and rosemary, the moonlight filtered through the glazed window panes. Discarded blankets and gardening sacks supplied their bed as clothes were shed, dropped carelessly to the dirt strewn floor. Myka’s nimble fingers tripped and fumbled over hooks and buttons no one in the twenty-first century had to deal with on a regular basis as she helped strip Helena of skirt and petticoats, corset and chemise. Helena managed to get Myka’s clothes off with far less trouble, but no less urgency.
Together they moved, skin on skin. The body was not her own, the responses, the urges, all foreign, but it changed nothing. She still craved Helena’s touch, longed for her taste, and reveled in both over and over. She tasted, consumed, mapped every inch of Helena’s skin with lips and teeth and tongue, driving Helena higher with each caress, each touch, until she simply shattered and cried out in release.
Only then did Myka let herself go, following every primal urge, every instinct to plunge, to dive, to join their bodies as one. Helena gasped with every delicious movement, urging Myka on with each moan, each arch, each scratch and bite and taste until pushed to the heights of pleasure, she crashed over the edge again, this time bringing Myka over with her.
In the humid darkness, Myka pulled Helena too her, strong arms wrapped protectively around her lover. Her heart pounded solidly in her chest, echoing the pace of Helena’s own as she snuggled deeper into Myka’s embrace.
“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone?”
Myka kissed Helena’s neck, smiling. “I don’t care if they have.” She brushed her fingers through Helena’s hair, sweeping it off her forehead before kissing her tenderly. “Stay with me tonight,” Myka whispered. “Just let me hold you.”
Helena closed her eyes. “I wish I could stop time. Or go back… go back and find a way to give us more time. Do you think someday they’ll find a way to do that?”
Yes, she wanted to answer. Yes, someday there will be time travel and it will be you that makes it work. But the words remained unsaid. Myka swallowed hard, hot tears springing to her eyes. She blinked them away, cleared her throat. “I think if you want something badly enough, Helena, you’ll find a way to accomplish it.”
“Maybe I will.”
~*~
No one had come looking for them, or at least they hadn’t come looking in the greenhouse.
And it was just as well, for neither Myka nor Helena would have noticed. They made love again, slowly, memorizing every curve, every strong plane of each other’s bodies until curiosity and memory were sated with sensation. Those quiet hours they filled with soft moans and unhurried kisses, as if there was no tomorrow, even as they knew it came far too quickly.
In the grey light of morning, they cuddled together, clothes strewn over them in makeshift blankets. They didn’t speak much, didn’t need to, for there was very little left to say. Instead, they held each other and let the silence fortify them for the onslaught to come.
When daylight finally chased away the last vestiges of night they got up and dressed.
“What time is your ferry?”
“Three o’clock.” Myka brushed a hand through her hair and handed Helena one of the ribbons that had fallen from her hair. “Come with me to Dover? See me off?”
“You are a glutton for punishment,” Helena teased darkly.
“I can’t help it,” Myka answered, pulling Helena close, “I want every last second I can with you.” She kissed her softly. “Please?”
“It’s a good thing you’re leaving… I’m not sure I’m prepared to live a life where you always convince me to act against my instincts.”
“I promise to only use my power for good, not evil.”
Helena laughed. “I’m not sure I can make the same promise.”
Myka swallowed hard. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll always manage to do the right thing in the end.”
Helena leaned up, kissing the corner of Myka’s mouth. “Well, I’d hope so darling.”
~*~
The house was silent when they entered, everyone apparently still sleeping off the previous evening’s activities. Helena silently opened Charles bedroom door to find him passed out across the bed, a bottle of brandy on the floor just out of reach. She shut the door and moved onto her own room where Myka was lingering at the threshold.
“If people ask…?”
“I went for a walk, you escorted me and unfortunately fell ill again. We took shelter until you were feeling well enough to walk again and simply fell asleep waiting.”
“That’s quite the explanation.”
Helena smirked. “Please, it barely does my imagination justice with its simplicity. If you’d like I could throw something in about highway bandits, or a creature of the night?”
“No,” Myka laughed, “no, please. I don’t think I’d be able to keep a straight face if you did.” She took a chance and leaned in to kiss her one more time. “You should put that imagination to good use someday.”
“Creating plausible stories to excuse romantic rendezvous?”
“As a writer.”
“What?”
“You have the most interesting mind I’ve ever had the pleasure of crossing paths with, Helena. All of that imagination and intelligence shouldn’t go to waste in the pages of your diary.” Myka reached up and cupped Helena’s cheek. “You’re meant for so much more than that.”
Helena leaned into her touch. “You keep saying things like that and I won’t let you get on that boat.”
Which they both knew had to happen. Reluctantly, Myka pulled her hand away. “I need to pack.”
“I’ll see you at brunch.”
They pulled apart, each to their own room, the doors shutting softly after them.
Part Seven