Page 1 of The Uprising
Chapter 1
York - Present day
Cara and George had lived together for the past year, ever since George gathered his nerve to knock on the cottage door after the timeline reset and he lost his old life.
That was the day their lives changed forever.
It had been a wonderful year. There was no more heart-wrenching double-life secrecy, which was a great relief.
They took their time to decompress and relax into the quiet, idyllic rhythm of their new life together after the stress of their intense on-off love affair and manic time travel adventures.
A few months later, they married, surrounded by an intimate circle of family and friends. Eddie Makepeace, the five-hundred-year time traveller, and Sylvia Skye, their trusted psychic advisor, were amongst the small number of guests.
The bride and groom exchanged their vows underneath a spring floral wedding canopy in the gardens ofWillow Manor Hotel. They both agreed there was no more perfect time or place for Cara to once again become Mrs Cavendish. Tears spilled down her cheeks when she looked into George’s dark shining eyes. Her voice choked with emotion when she said, ‘I do.’
After an elegant reception in the grand old hall, Cara and George said farewell, waved, and blew kisses before rattling away down the majestic, willow tree lined drive in George’s olive-green sports car.
‘I don’t fancy rattling all the way to the airport with Eddie’s tin cans in tow,’ George said, and he pulled over by the gates and jumped out to remove them.
They spent a magical month in Corfu in a villa overlooking the sea and were enchanted by the soothing island lifestyle. As the month drew to a close, they grew edgy and apprehensive.
‘I wish we could stay here forever,’ said Cara, as they strolled hand in hand along the seashore, one afternoon. Their sun-bronzed toes left prints in the golden sand before shallow blue-green waves lapped and gurgled over their feet and erased any signs of life.
Upon their return to York, with serendipitous timing, George’s position as a company director of an import-export company, in Seville, which he had inherited with his new life after the timeline reset, ended abruptly.
Cara and George, who were desperately sorry the honeymoon was over, holed up at Rose Cottage and continued to spend almost every moment in each other’s company as they figured out what George would do next. Their relationship had been tested in extreme circumstances, and they had emerged stronger than ever, secure in their love.
Cara decided she was long overdue a sabbatical from her consultancy work and made a bold decision to take a year off to write a follow-up book toThe Rise and Fall of the Tudor Dynastyand to prolong the blissful period.
On the warm, summer mornings, Cara settled down to write in the garden at the table with her laptop, in the shade of a yellow sun umbrella. George kept her topped up with freshly brewed coffee and wandered out to join her mid-morning and flop in a nearby sunchair. He was a comforting, yet unobtrusive presence, flicking through the pages of his newspaper or reading a book, as she tapped on her keyboard.
Occasionally she would look up from the screen and he would catch her eye and they’d share a look. Not everything had to be spoken aloud. The long, lazy summer days full of sunbathing, snoozing, love-making, and dining in the garden, followed by leisurely evening river walks, rolled by.
‘If you’d told me last year that everything would work out for us perfectly like this, I would never have believed it,’ said Cara.
They lay entwined in each other’s arms, early one morning, cherishing the precious still moments before York stirred. The only sound they could hear was the gentle cooing of a wood pigeon in the old oak tree which towered above the bedroom window.
‘Well, at the risk of sounding like a bit of a know-it-all, I did tell you it would work out,’ said George.
Cara smiled and traced her fingers across his chest.
‘But I never would have believed I was a time traveller,’ he continued.
‘I’ve grown used to it; although it’s easier now we’re together all the time. We’re actually living a normal life.’ Cara paused, and looked up at him, her smile coy. ‘I know it sounds corny, but I still pinch myself.’
‘Trust me, there’s nothing normal about our life.’ He kissed her nose. ‘I’m so happy you married me here, too,’ he said and then dropped a trail of featherlight kisses onto the sensitive skin behind her ear, and Cara shivered.
‘Me too, darling—it was the most wonderful day of my life. Although, I would love you until the end of all timelines, married or not.’
George pulled her closer as the familiar fire of lust ignited between them.
‘I love that you still believe in marriage, you old romantic,’ she said.
‘Less of the old.’ He kissed her mouth, first gently and then with increasing urgency, crushing her lips as though he would devour her. She pushed into his warm chest and returned his kiss with equal passion. He pressed against her; his desire growing as he ached to satisfy his burning need, and they melted into each other’s touch, becoming one.
Sex between them had always been explosive. There was no need for discussion; they were sexually compatible in a way neither of them had experienced before. Each intuitively understood exactly what the other needed to fulfil both their soul and their physical desires.
Cara had wondered whether this kind of contentment with another human being was possible; now she knew for certain it was.
