Twice In A Lifetime (3 page)

“Lady, are ye dead?”

Izzy tried to open her eyes. Who the hell poked her? How long had she been out? Fatigue weighted her aching muscles like an anchor. She’d been having the strangest dream. An accident on the set, then she and Ian were suddenly in a pirate movie. Except he didn’t recognize—

“Lady. Wake up. The captain said yer to drink this.”

Captain?
Oh, shit.

Her eyes shot open. She lay sprawled across a double bed in a ship’s cabin. Polished wooden walls gleamed in the sunlight, a small Oriental rug covered the space in front of a tall, double cabinet and hurricane lanterns lit the wall near a narrow teak desk.

Ian’s desk. Ian’s walls. Ian’s bed.

Christ. What was going on? How could he afford this boat— even as a rental. They didn’t have that kind of money! And to carry her off set… What had he said on the dock?
“
Have it your way. For now
.” Damn him, he planned it all along. He kidnapped her.

“Lady!”

She bolted upright in bed, then groaned. “Please. Stop. Yelling.” Her freakin’ head felt like a baseball after extra innings. Why the hell had Ian let her go to sleep? She could have a concussion. Did he want to finish her off? Was this about revenge?

She blinked once, twice, then focused on the blurry image of a curly-haired boy.

“Here.” He shoved a cup into her hand. “Captain Douglas says drink all of it.” He grinned like someone who just put a frog in his sister’s shoe.

Izzy eyed the concoction, then sniffed and clamped her mouth shut. The greenish liquid smelled like dirty feet. Sadistic little shit.

“No way.” She set the cup onto the floor. “What's your name?” Maybe she could pry some information out of this kid. He’d probably overheard some of Ian’s plans.

“Ben.” He retrieved the cup and held out to her. “Captain’s orders.”

The boy kept in character, she’d give him that. He’d probably win an Oscar someday. Didn’t bode well though that he was so loyal to Ian.

“I don’t do well with orders. Besides, it smells horrible. Have you ever tasted this stuff?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma'am. I fell from the mizzen mast last summer. Had to drink

lots of it.” His small chest puffed out. “Captain said I took it like a real man.”

Izzy smiled. “Well, I'm
not
a man.” And she wasn’t drinking this, miracle cure or not. All she wanted from Ben was information. “I’m not as brave as you, that’s for sure.” A little flattery couldn’t hurt.

A flush crawled up his freckled face as he grinned. “Well, yer a girl. Girls is s’posed to be took care of. They don’t have to be brave.” He took the cup and wrinkled his nose at the smell. “Father said ye claim to be the captain's wife.”

“I
am
his wife.” How damned long did Ian intend to keep playing this game?

Ben shrugged as if it wasn't important, then pulled at a string on his well-worn, cropped pants. “Well, Captain don't want no women on board. ‘Course once we catch that scoundrel Roberts what stole off with Miss Alicia, she’ll be here.”

Alicia?
“Wait a minute.” Izzy swung her legs over the edge of the berth, blood racing through her veins, pounding in her temples, twisting her gut. “You say Daniel Roberts
kidnapped
Alicia?” Dear God, why would Ian tell such an outrageous lie?

Ben backed up, eyes wide at her outburst. “Yes, ma'am. That's why we've been all over the Caribbean tryin’ to find her.”

None of this made sense. Alicia had been dead almost a year. And they weren’t in the Caribbean.

Izzy ran her fingers over the bandage. Was she losing her mind? Or had the grief driven Ian crazy? Cold fear settled in the pit of her stomach. She needed a dose of reality and Ian needed help. More help than she could give alone. Maybe Celeste could have an ambulance meet them.

“Ben, I need a cell phone.”

He frowned. “A what?”

“Come on. I bet you have a kick-ass Blackberry or Droid. Give it to me.” She wiggled her fingers.

Ben shook his head and edged to the door. “I think ye better rest, ma'am. The captain will check on ye later.” He clutched the knob, a wary look in his eyes. “The
n ye can ask him about foam and blackberries.” The door slammed in his wake.

Great. No doubt he’d go blab to Ian. She’d have to hurry.

Climbing from the bed, she ran to the desk. Ian was a creature of habit. The top drawer would hold his cell and truck keys. She peered inside.

Empty. Okay, so he was a sneaky creature of habit.

She dug through the desk, pushed aside thick parchment paper, a feather quill, a bottle of ink and several maps. Old maps, dated from the 1700’s. Oh, he was
good
. She’d seen movie sets with less authenticity.

She yanked open another drawer. An old-timey picture of Alicia and Ian— one she’d never seen before.

The next drawer held letters. The first one from Alicia… dated 1768. Her handwriting, her signature, the contents about things that made no sense— a governor’s ball, an afternoon tea, a carriage ride, a
marriage
proposal? None of this sounded like Alicia. She had been a party girl, drugs, alcohol, a girl whose poor choice in men along with drinking and driving got her— and very nearly Daniel— killed.

Dead girls did not write letters.

A ghostly shiver rippled down her spine. How? Even if Ian had hired a crew to play in this hoax, no way could Alicia be a part of it.

Izzy dropped into the chair. Dear God.
I was killed in the explosion.

No, no. Wait. Maybe it was a dream after all. Yeah, dreaming was so much better than dead. She took another deep breath and pinched her arm until it turned purple.

“Ouch.” Okay, not dreaming, hopefully not dead.

Another shiver skated over her skin. The other option was too unbelievable. Celeste didn’t have
real
magical power. Did she? No. There had to be something here to prove Ian had kidnapped her.

She raced to the cabinet and dug through it, then to Ian's sea chest, tossing

everything onto the bed. No jeans, no T-shirts, no wallet, no I-Pod. Damn, he always had his music.

Next she felt along all the walls, searching for a hidden TV or computer. There had to be a hidden fuse panel or light switch. Something.
Anything.

Several minutes later, Izzy flopped onto the bed, disbelief thrumming through her brain.
Ian just planned ahead. That’s all
. He knew she’d search for a phone or laptop— a way to let someone know he’d taken her. That had to be it. Had to be.

Warm tropical air caressed her face, lulling her to the window. The ship slowed as they approached a lush bay. She scanned the turquoise water, turquoise like in the Caribbean, not
in the Pacific.

Okay, okay. That didn’t matter. Any minute a yacht or jet ski would speed by. Maybe she could signal one of them.

She grabbed a spyglass from the desk and peered toward the shore. Thick nausea crawled up her throat. Where was everything? No cars, no skyscrapers, no neon signs, no tourist buses. Not a phone tower or electric pole anywhere. Just rough wooden shanties that didn't look as if they could withstand a strong wind. People walking, dressed in 18th century clothing. The ships around them wore sails. Wooden hulls and masts. Nothing with motors, nothing modern…

Ian couldn’t do this. He didn’t have that kind of money or connections.

A sick feeling knotted her gut.

Oh, Celeste, what have you done?
“I said reverse the past— like a year ago. Not two hundred and fifty years!”

She leaned back on the cabinet, then slid to the floor and hung her head. What the hell did she do now? How did this magic shit work?

Where the hell was her fairy voodoo godmother to explain the damned rules? And what good did it do to go back in time if Ian didn’t even know her? None, that’s what. Screw this.

“I’m not staying, Celeste. You hear m
e?” There had to be a way back to the future. She jumped to her feet and replaced all of Ian’s clothes, then put the desk in order. “Okay, now, bring me back to you.”

Izzy squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing happened. “Celeste?” She waited. And waited. “I guess that’s a ‘no’?”
Damn.

“
Remember, second chances are rare. If you get one, don’t run. Fight for what you want.
” Celeste’s words blew in on the breeze.

Izzy scanned the room as the hairs prickled on her arms. “All right, yes, fine. I get it. I’ve got second chance. But Ian doesn’t remember me. What good is that?” Silence answered. “Oh, sure. Now you’re quiet.”

Fine. There had to be answer. She started pacing.

Okay, Ian might not remember her, but surely Celeste wouldn’t send her here without a plan.
Think
. So he didn’t remember the past…That could be a good thing. It meant he didn’t remember their fights. Izzy stopped pacing. It also meant Alicia was still alive. Maybe. But if she ran off with Daniel— which sounded much closer to the truth than kidnapping— then who knows what they were doing. If it was drinking and partying, then the outcome might be—

“You're supposed to be sleeping.” Ian’s deep voice rumbled in the quiet room.

“Ian.” She spun to face him. Muscles rippled as he pulled off his long coat and hung it on a peg near the door. Dark, wind-blown hair brushed against the shoulders of his white shirt, the thick strands making her fingers itch to tangle through them like she’d done so many times before.

“You didn’t follow orders.”

She shrugged. “Yeah. . .part of my charm.”

He strode toward her and leaned on the corner of desk. “Ben said you didn't drink the medicine. I know it tastes like the bottom of a slop bucket, but it will make you feel better.”

She wrinkled her nose. “My head feels okay now. Really.” Except for trying to wrap her mind around time travel.

“Well, that's good.” He smirked, the familiar single dimple making her smile. She loved that dimple. Loved talking to him without the tension and yelling.

Damn, she still loved him.

He unwound the bandage. “It has stopped bleeding and looks as well as expected I suppose.” His hand brushed aside her bangs, his knuckles trailing down her cheek. His expression haunted.

Fight for what you want
. She had to. This was crazy, but if she and Ian could be happy, then who said they had to be in 2011?
Say something!

“Um, Ian—”

He dropped his hand and eyed the telescope she held. “You can’t go with me. Your dress isn't dry yet.”

“You're going ashore?”

He nodded. “Just for awhile. I have personal business. Then, I want to find you a safe place to stay.” He walked to the cabinet and removed a leather pouch. “Ben will bring your dress later. Be ready when I return for you.”

Her stomach clenched, and a low buzz started in her head. “What do you mean find a place to stay?” She grabbed his arm. “You're not leaving me on that island?” He couldn't. He
wouldn’t.

Panic whipped through her. Christ, this was a freakin’ nightmare. Just when she decided to stay, he was ditching her.

“
Men always leave.
” Mother’s drunken motto rapped in her ears, but Celeste’s defense of Ian echoed louder.
“Remember, second chances are rare. Fight
.
”

“Yes.” Coins jingled inside the pouch as he moved to tuck it inside his coat. “I have things I must attend to. Things that might put you in danger if you remain with me.” He turned, obviously surprised to find he
r hot on his heels. He gave a don’t-worry-your-pretty-little-head smile and patted her hand as she latched on to him again. “I believe you’ll be better off here.”

Like hell. This couldn’t be what Celeste planned.

He tried to side-step her, but Izzy moved to block his path. What could she say that would convince him to let her stay?

“What about Alicia? You’ll need help finding her.” Dangerous subject, but she had to buy some time. Still, dangling bait in front of an angry bear wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Alicia had always been a toxic subject.

His eyes narrowed. “How do you know about her?” He gripped Izzy’s wrist. “How do you know so much about me?”

“I’m. Your. Wife.” She didn’t bother to hide her frustration. “I know everything about you.”

He cocked a dark eyebrow in disbelief.

“All right. I'll prove it. You're thirty-five years old. Your birthday is January 16th.” She took a deep breath and watched his face pale. “You're terrified of spiders— though you don't want other men to know.”

His eyes widened, then he scowled and pushed past her to sag against the desk.

“How can you possibly… ?” His fingers drummed on the scarred wooden top, a habit he had when trying to figure out something.

She walked to him, stood so close her bare legs brushed against his pants, the rough fabric an erotic scrape against her skin. “Because I'm your—”