Read Online A Cry at Midnight by Victoria Chancellor - Free Book Online
Authors: Victoria Chancellor
Tags: Romance
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praying that he didn't immediately reject her offer. If he'd just give her a chance . . . If she could find her way back home, then she wouldn't influence this baby at all. She'd be out of the past, and things could go on as they should.
Which meant, she realized with a start, that sometime in the near future Rose and her father would die in the rising muddy water of the Mississippi. Despite the hand she placed over her mouth, Randi couldn't suppress a moan at the image of them trapped in this house, the river covering their heads, pulling them under to a watery grave.
"What's wrong, Miss Galloway?"
"The river . . ." she tried to explain, but realized she couldn't. There was no way he'd accept the fact that a flood would come. She had to improvise, and fast. He looked at her as though she was acting strangely again, which, she supposed, she was.
She took a deep breath, trying not to alarm baby or father. "What I meant was that my head still hurts from falling into the river."
"When you lost your clothes."
"That's right. I hit my head, too."
"Yes, I seem to remember you mentioning that."
"I have a headache sometimes."
"And you can't remember things correctly."
"Exactly," she said, glad that he'd been paying attention earlier when they talked. "As a matter of fact, one of the things I'm having trouble recalling is the date. Could you please tell me?" She shifted Rose to the other hip, not taking her eyes off the baby's father.
"The date?"
"Yes. The month, date, and year, please," she asked politely.
He took two steps toward her, then folded his arms across his chest. The sleeves of his shirt pulled taut against his shoulders, emphasizing his lean but muscular build. And he was tall, looming over her short frame in a way that made her feel extremely vulnerable. Again, she reminded herself that she had to be very careful around this man . . . around all these people in the past.
The only one she could possibly let down her guard around was this sweet baby. Her arms tightened around Rose as Randi blinked back the tears that constantly threatened when she thought of the tragedy yet to come.
"Today is April 5, 1849."
His words slowly registered. Less than a month. By the end of April, the plantation would be flooded. Jackson Durant and his daughter would be swept away, drowned in the horrible, muddy water that rarely gave up its victims.
She felt weak, her stomach churning. Normally, she was as healthy as a horse, but since she'd heard the baby's cries inside the replica, and especially since she'd been hurled back in time, she hadn't felt very good. The knowledge that everyone she met was going to be either homeless or dead didn't help.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Durant, but my head is really hurting. Perhaps I'd better lie down now," Randi said quietly, not meeting his gaze. Instead, she buried her face next to Rose, breathing in the distinctive baby fragrance, feeling the soft, warm skin that was so darn alive.
How could she let this baby die? Was that why she'd gone back into the past--to save a life? She wished she had some answers, but knew that she might never find out the reason she'd fallen into the dollhouse. Or the way to back to her own time.
The tug of the baby jolted Randi into awareness. "I'll take Rose from you," her father said.
"I could put her to bed," Randi said, reluctant to let go of the infant. Rose felt so good, so right, in her arms.
"No, I'll have Suzette perform her usual duties. You obviously need your rest, Miss Galloway. I'm sure falling into the river and losing your personal belongings is quite unsettling. We can talk some more tomorrow, when you're feeling better."
"Yes, tomorrow . . ." Randi said, distracted by the sight of the very virile man and his sleepy baby daughter, wishing her head wasn't swirling with images and feelings she'd rather not face. As Mr. Durant settled Rose more comfortably on his shoulder, Randi's hand drifted to her stomach, feeling the emptiness more strongly than
Which meant, she realized with a start, that sometime in the near future Rose and her father would die in the rising muddy water of the Mississippi. Despite the hand she placed over her mouth, Randi couldn't suppress a moan at the image of them trapped in this house, the river covering their heads, pulling them under to a watery grave.
"What's wrong, Miss Galloway?"
"The river . . ." she tried to explain, but realized she couldn't. There was no way he'd accept the fact that a flood would come. She had to improvise, and fast. He looked at her as though she was acting strangely again, which, she supposed, she was.
She took a deep breath, trying not to alarm baby or father. "What I meant was that my head still hurts from falling into the river."
"When you lost your clothes."
"That's right. I hit my head, too."
"Yes, I seem to remember you mentioning that."
"I have a headache sometimes."
"And you can't remember things correctly."
"Exactly," she said, glad that he'd been paying attention earlier when they talked. "As a matter of fact, one of the things I'm having trouble recalling is the date. Could you please tell me?" She shifted Rose to the other hip, not taking her eyes off the baby's father.
"The date?"
"Yes. The month, date, and year, please," she asked politely.
He took two steps toward her, then folded his arms across his chest. The sleeves of his shirt pulled taut against his shoulders, emphasizing his lean but muscular build. And he was tall, looming over her short frame in a way that made her feel extremely vulnerable. Again, she reminded herself that she had to be very careful around this man . . . around all these people in the past.
The only one she could possibly let down her guard around was this sweet baby. Her arms tightened around Rose as Randi blinked back the tears that constantly threatened when she thought of the tragedy yet to come.
"Today is April 5, 1849."
His words slowly registered. Less than a month. By the end of April, the plantation would be flooded. Jackson Durant and his daughter would be swept away, drowned in the horrible, muddy water that rarely gave up its victims.
She felt weak, her stomach churning. Normally, she was as healthy as a horse, but since she'd heard the baby's cries inside the replica, and especially since she'd been hurled back in time, she hadn't felt very good. The knowledge that everyone she met was going to be either homeless or dead didn't help.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Durant, but my head is really hurting. Perhaps I'd better lie down now," Randi said quietly, not meeting his gaze. Instead, she buried her face next to Rose, breathing in the distinctive baby fragrance, feeling the soft, warm skin that was so darn alive.
How could she let this baby die? Was that why she'd gone back into the past--to save a life? She wished she had some answers, but knew that she might never find out the reason she'd fallen into the dollhouse. Or the way to back to her own time.
The tug of the baby jolted Randi into awareness. "I'll take Rose from you," her father said.
"I could put her to bed," Randi said, reluctant to let go of the infant. Rose felt so good, so right, in her arms.
"No, I'll have Suzette perform her usual duties. You obviously need your rest, Miss Galloway. I'm sure falling into the river and losing your personal belongings is quite unsettling. We can talk some more tomorrow, when you're feeling better."
"Yes, tomorrow . . ." Randi said, distracted by the sight of the very virile man and his sleepy baby daughter, wishing her head wasn't swirling with images and feelings she'd rather not face. As Mr. Durant settled Rose more comfortably on his shoulder, Randi's hand drifted to her stomach, feeling the emptiness more strongly than
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