Page 8 of The Girl Out of Time
Emmeline looked up, only to hear an “Ouch” as her hat grazed something. Someone’s face.
Scratch that about gratefulness. This thing was a menace. Emmeline grumbled and took the damn hat off, not caring if she bent an ostrich feather or two. She gazed upon her poor victim and froze.
It was a young man with piercing, silvery gray eye, and wavy dark hair, striking against his pale, well-defined face. High cheekbones, a long, narrow nose; a lock of hair rebelliously fanning his straight eyebrows. But Emmeline hadn’t frozen because he was good-looking, in that unusual, fascinating way; she froze because the secondhesawher, his eyes widened, and his intake of breath indicated he was about to say something, but he didn’t.
Emmeline shook her head. “I’m—uh—I’m so sorry. For my hat. I didn’t see—are you injured?”
He was staring at her as if he were a King-Vampire, gazing upon his long-lost love. All right, a bit far-fetched, perhaps, but his clothes didn’t help the case. He was wearing a strange, heavy overcoat with shoulder capesand, beneath it, a deep sapphire dinner jacket and unusually tight beige pants, disappearing into polished black boots.
He had no business being here. Clearly, he should be standing at long-abandoned castle ruins overlooking dreary, foggy moors as the wind billowed his cloak and ruffled his hair and clouds rolled above him.
And yet, this was the inquiry office, not the setting ofDark and Stormy. And she figured why he’d need help: a few smudges ran along his pants and coat, and a smaller one stained his cheek. A mishap on the train or in the carriage here, perhaps? Or had something happened on the ship?
He finally blinked. “No. I’m fine.” He picked up the book as they both rose.
“Good.” She wasn’t sure why a smile crept onto her lips. “If you need something, you’ll want to get in line. Unless I cut in? I’m sorry, were you—”
“I …” He looked toward the counters, then back at her. “Yes.”
“Yes, I cut in, or yes, you’d like to get in line?”
“I’ll …” He made a few awkward steps to the right until he was approximately queued up. He put his hands behind his back, only to realize he was still holding the book, and handed it to her. “Sorry. That’s yours.”
“Have you read it?”
He glanced at the cover, briefly frowning. “No, but I’ve heard of it.”
“Oh, you should read it. It’s lovely. It’s about a boy who can fly and comes from a magical land where everyone stays young forever. He meets a girl and her two brothers and invites them with him, and they go and have grand adventures—well, I shouldn’t spoil it for you, especially the ending.”
“You’re still reading it, but you already know the ending?”
“It’s based on a play.Peter Pan. A childhood favorite of mine.” When Emmeline had first seen it, she’d become convinced she’d be an actresswhen she grew up. For months afterward, she’d taken her mother’s fine evening gown—a foot too long for her—wrapped strings of pearls around her neck, hopped on the desk that was her stage, and pretended to be Lily Elsie.
“It sounds wonderful.” A corner of his mouth quirked up, and his eyes softened into an almost dreamlike gaze.
She clutched the book, beaming back. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Everything about him was fascinating—from how he behaved to how he dressed and even how he talked. His accent sounded American in one second and almost British in another, but the way villagers back in Dorset spoke, not like the more refined enunciation of her mother.
“I’m Emmeline.” She offered him her gloved hand.
With a slight delay, he took it. “Leon.”
“Pleasure.” As the line moved, she put her hat on but kept glancing back at him. Leon stood close behind—but not too close to be improper—hands now clasped on his back. He looked like a guard.Herguard.Hmm. A Lady and Her Guard.That would be quite the romance.
Don’t get carried away.
As the line shortened, the crowds cleared, and by the time Emmeline got to the purser, only a few people still milled about. She resolved the cabin conundrum—now having been put in a single-berth stateroom, sadly next to her brothers—and booked all the activities her mother wanted to partake in. As she turned away from the counter, Leon was still waiting.
“You don’t need to talk to the purser?” She asked as she approached him.
“I—uh—I can sort it out later.”
A deep hum of the ship’s whistle came from outside, interrupting them. “The ship’s leaving!” Emmeline grabbed Leon’s hand, excitement subduingher surprise at having grabbed a stranger. “Come! We have to find a good space.”
He didn’t protest as she dragged him toward the exit upstairs, bursting into the light of the deck. They were high up now, the nearest funnel rising impossibly tall and wide so close up. But even so, Emmeline could barely see the docks and the people below. The decks were swamped with passengers, all squeezing next to the railing trying to get the best vantage point, leaning over to wave at friends or families they were leaving behind.
“We appear to be slightly late for the best spots,” Leon remarked.
He was taller than her; by about half a head, she judged, and even she wasn’t nearly as petite as her mother. If he couldn’t see anything—excluding the possible blockage of her hat—there was no hope. She turned in a circle, taking in the crowd populating the entire length of the ship’s port side. Every good spot had been taken. Every good spot, except for …
