She shrugged. “I gave a very clear date, didn’t I? Twenty years of King Henry. There are eight of them to choose from!” She smiled. “And Abergavenny, of course. I’ve never been there, but I know it’s somewhere in Wales.”

“South Wales,” he put in. “I went there once, as a child, but I don’t remember there being a castle.”

“Oh, Nick! It’s all quite mad!”

“What did it feel like, being hypnotized?” he asked curiously.

She sighed. “That’s the stupid thing. I’m not sure. I don’t think I knew it was happening. I didn’t seem to go to sleep or anything. Except real sleep when I slept in the castle. Only that wasn’t real sleep because the time scale was different. I lived through two days, Nick, in less than two hours.” She sat down on the bed again, looking at him. “This is what happened before, isn’t it? When Sam was there. They did hypnotize me and they lost control of me that time too!”

Nick nodded. “Sam said you were told not to remember what happened, it would upset you too much. And he said I mustn’t talk about it to you, Jo, that’s why I couldn’t explain-”

“I lived through those same scenes then,” she went on, not hearing him. “I saw the massacre then too.”

Nick looked away. “I don’t know, Jo. You must speak to Sam-”

“It must have been the massacre, because I hurt my hands tearing at the stone archway. But I really bled in Edinburgh. My fingers were bruised and bleeding, not just painful!” Her voice was shaking. “Oh, God, it was all so real. Nick, I’m frightened.” She stared at her hands, holding them out before her.

Nick took hold of them gently, standing up. “Come on,” he said. “We need another drink. And something to eat. Is there any food in the apartment?”

She dragged her thoughts back to the present with difficulty. “In the freezer. I forgot to buy anything today.” She gave a rueful smile. “I was going to go shopping on my way back from Devonshire Place but everything went out of my head.”

Nick grinned. “I’m not surprised. Being a baron’s lady with a castle full of serfs, you can hardly be expected to lower yourself to trundle around the supermarket with a shopping cart. You must try not to let it upset you too much, Jo. Try and see the amusing side. Think of it as a personalized horror film. You got front-row seats and no ice cream in the intermission. But, apart from that, thank God there’s no harm done this time.”

“That doesn’t sound very scientific.” She forced herself to smile. Standing up slowly, she pulled the belt of her robe more tightly around her. Then she headed toward the kitchen and pulled open the freezer door. “There’s pizza in here or steak.” The normality of her action calmed her. Her voice was steady again.

“Pizza’s fine. What intrigues me is where you dredged all this information up from. The details all sounded so authentic.”

“Dr. Bennet and Bill Walton both said that they usually are. That’s one of their strongest arguments in favor of reincarnation, of course.” She lit the oven and put two pizzas in. “Where it is possible to substantiate things apparently they are usually uncannily accurate. I’m going to check as much as I can. Is there any whisky left?”

“I’ll get it.”

She took down two plates and put them to warm. “Here, let me make a salad to go with these. Neither Bennet nor Walton was a fake, Nick. I was wrong to think it. They didn’t ask any leading questions. Bennet didn’t influence my ‘dream’ in any way. If he had, I’d have heard on the tape. Look, if there is any period of history I would say that I should like to identify with at all it would be the Regency. If he’d been a fraud he would have found that out in two minutes.” She poured vinegar and oil into a jar and reached for the pepper mill. “I daresay I could have reenacted a dozen Georgette Heyer novels. I read everything of hers I could lay my hands on when I was a teenager. But he didn’t ask. He didn’t guide me at all. Here, give this a shake. Instead I find myself in medieval Wales. With people talking Welsh all around me, for God’s sake!”

Nick shook up the dressing and poured it over the salad. “If it was Welsh,” he said quietly. “God knows what it was you said. If you had jumped up and down shouting Cymru am byth I might have been able to substantiate it!”

“Where did you learn that?” she laughed.

“Rugby. I don’t mess about when I go to Twickenham, you know, it’s very educational.” He touched her cheek lightly. “Good to see you laughing. It’s not like our Jo to get upset.”

She pushed a plate at him. “As Dr. Bennet pointed out, it’s not every day that ‘our Jo’ witnesses a full-dress massacre, even in a nightmare,” she retorted.

They ate in the living room. “Bach to eat by,” said Nick, putting his plate down and riffling through the stack of records. “To restore the equilibrium.”

She did not argue. It meant they didn’t have to talk; it meant she needn’t even think. She let the music sweep over her, leaving her food almost untouched as she lay back on the sofa, her feet up, and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again the sky was dark outside the French windows onto the balcony. The music had finished and the room was silent. Nick was sitting watching her in the light of the single desk lamp.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked indignantly. “What time is it?”

“Eleven. Time you were in bed. You look exhausted.”

“Don’t dictate, Nick. It’s time you went, for that matter,” she said sharply.

“Wouldn’t you like me to stay?”

She pushed herself up on her elbow. “No. You and I are finished, remember? You have to go back to your cozy love nest with the talented Miss Curzon. What was it you said on the phone, ‘working late’-she won’t believe it, you know, if you stay away all night!”

“I don’t much care what she believes at the moment, Jo. I am more concerned about you,” Nick said. He stood up and turned on the main light. “I don’t think you should be alone tonight.”

“In case I have nightmares?”

“Yes, in case you have nightmares. This has shaken you up more than you realize, and I think someone should be here. I’ll sleep here on the sofa if the idea of me in your bed offends you, but I’m going to stay!”

She stood up furiously. “Like hell you are!” Then abruptly her shoulders slumped. “Oh, God, Nick, you’re right. I do want you to stay. I want you to hold me.”

He put his arms around her gently and caressed her hair. “The trouble with you, Jo, is that when you’re nice, you’re very, very nice, but-”

“I know, I know. And when I’m horrid you hate and detest me. And I’m usually horrid.” She forced herself to smile. “Well, tonight I’m being nice. But it is only for one night, Nick. Everything will be back to normal tomorrow.”

In bed they lay for a long time in silence. Then Nick raised himself on one elbow and looked down at her in the faint light that filtered through the blind from the streetlamp in the mews.

“Jo,” he said softly. “You haven’t told me yet about Richard.”

She stiffened. “Richard?”

“Your lover in that castle. He was your lover, wasn’t he?”

Restlessly she moved her head sideways so he could not see her face. “I don’t know. It wasn’t me , Nick! He left the castle. He wasn’t there at the end. I don’t know what happened next. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know.” Agitated, she tried to push him away, but he caught her wrist, forcing it back against the pillow so that she had to face him.

“You’re planning to see Bennet again, aren’t you?”

She shook her head violently. “No, of course I’m not.”

“Are you sure?”

Something in his voice made her stare up into his face, trying to see the expression in his eyes.

“For God’s sake, don’t do it. It’s dangerous. Far more dangerous than you or Bennet realize. Your life could be in danger, Jo.” His voice was harsh.

She smiled. “Now, that is melodramatic. Are you suggesting I could be locked in the past forever?” She reached up and tugged his hair playfully. “You idiot, it doesn’t work that way. People always wake up in the end.”

“Do they?” He lay back on the pillow. “Just make sure you’ve got your facts right, Jo. I know it’s your proud boast that you always do, but just this once you could be wrong.”

9

Early the next morning Sam paid off the taxi and stood for a moment on the pavement staring around him. Judy’s address was scribbled on a scrap of paper in his hand.

He looked up at the house, then, slinging his suitcase over his shoulder, he ran easily up the long flights of steps until he reached the shadowy landing at the top of the stairs. It was some time before the door opened to his ring.

Judy stared at the rangy figure in the rumpled cord jacket and her eyes hardened. “What do you want?”

“Hello there.” He grinned at her easily. “I’m Sam Franklyn.”

“I guessed that. So-what do you want?” Her tone was icy. With paintstained fingers she pushed back the scarf that covered her hair.

“May I come in?”

“Please yourself.” She turned away and walked back into the studio. After picking up a rag, she began to scrub at her fingertips with some turpentine. “What have you come here for?” she asked after a minute. She did not bother to turn around.

Sam dropped his case in the corner and closed the door. “I rather hoped Nick would be here,” he said mildly, “but I can see I’ve goofed. Where is he, do you know?”

“I don’t.” She flung down the rag. “But I can guess. He stood me up last night.” She folded her arms and turned to face him. He could see now in the harsh revealing light of the studio windows that her eyes were red and puffy. There was a streak of viridian across her forehead.

“Any chance of some coffee while you tell me about it?” Sam said gently. “I’ve come straight from Heathrow and I’m parched.”