If only her time-related gift would allow her to make time stand still. He held her in his arms until they dozed off, basking in the afterglow of passion.
‘Are you hungry? George asked a while later.
‘I am. But I don’t want this to end. Let’s stay like this forever.’
‘Um. I have a better idea. And I think you’ll like it.’
‘What is it?’ she said, searching his dark eyes.
‘Let’s do it again…’
‘You’re right. I do like it,’ she said. ‘Food is so overrated.’
And they were lost in each other once more.
‘Okay. Now I am starving. Let’s go and eat!’ he said.
Cara’s head rested on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. She was at peace for the first time since the day they’d collided in the bookshop.
She withdrew her hand and sighed. ‘Yes, I’m starving too. And I’ll need to get back soon. I agreed to be on the panel.’
‘Of course, no problem. We’ll get you back on time.’
She picked up her skirt and slipped back into it. George’s fingers recaptured hers as he led her down the winding staircaseand back outside. Dishes of colourful food awaited them on the terrace. ‘Want some bread?’
She nodded. ‘Ooh, yes, please.’
He popped pieces of Pan Rustico, dipped in olive oil into her mouth.
‘Yum,’ she said, licking her lips and trying to stop oily crumbs falling on to her top.
He served them both a huge pile of salad and tucked into his as if he hadn’t eaten for days.
‘You are hungry,’ she said.
He paused mid-fork, smiled, his eyes widened and then he continued eating at the same furious pace. She laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks, and she bent over and clutched her sides.
‘What’s so funny? What did I do?’ said George. He laughed too. Her laughter was contagious.
Surely, I must have been happy like this in the past.
But she couldn’t locate a memory to match the elation she felt right now. She loved him.
Her phone rang. She picked it up from the table and looked at the screen.
It was Daniel.
Newgate Prison, London, 1536
‘Cara, Cara, wake up darling,’ George tapped her shoulder several times.
Finally, she stirred.
‘What? What is it? Where are we?’ Cara looked around the gloomy cell. Her eyes took a few seconds to focus in the dim light.
Oh shit. We’re back in that bloody prison. Only a moment ago we were laughing on the terrace in Seville. What the hell is going on?
Memories of their lovemaking flooded into her mind. She glowed with tenderness as she gazed at George. If this strange sequence of events wasn’t happening to her, she wouldn’t believe it. She was somehow living two simultaneous lives. Cara didn’t understand how this was happening, but she was certain of one thing. She adored this man. He was her husband here in whatever year it was, but he was somebody else’s husband in the present day. As scary as being in prison was, she was grateful to be with him in any circumstances. Pictures of them together in the inner sanctum of King Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn flashed through her head. Poor Queen Anne had been good to her no matter what evil gossip the propagandists had spread in order to precipitate her downfall.