Mary Balogh - Timeswept Brides

"Maybe because Deborah has found her true love. She's already in the right century." Amanda slid one hand over the satin folds of the gown. ' 'One of the buttons is missing," she murmured. "I think I recall losing it the night I wore the dress. It would have to be found if I wanted to go back…"

When her voice trailed into silence, Jesse asked harshly, "Is that what you want? To go back?"

Throat aching, she looked up at him. ' 'Do you want me to stay?"

"I want you to do what you feel you must," he said shortly. "Whatever it is, I'll understand."

"I think," she said after a moment, "because I spent so many years dreaming of you, fate took pity on me and brought us together."

Hot tears unexpectedly stung her eyes, and Amanda was vaguely surprised to see sudden damp splotches mar the ivory satin of the wedding dress. She dragged her hand over her cheeks to wipe away the tears.

"Amanda," Jesse said gruffly, and reached out to pull her into his arms. "I won't lie and say I don't want you. You know I do. But I want you to be happy. If you truly think we're meant to be together, we will be, even if it's only in my dreams. You must have family that will miss you if you stay here. Maybe you should go."

She looked up at him, shaking her head. "They're all dead. I'm the last Brandon."

"But won't you miss anyone?"

"Maybe Jessica. But we haven't stayed close. She'll think I just couldn't bear losing the house, and left town." Amanda laughed shakily. "Somehow I think she'd approve. She always said I was born in the wrong time."

His arms tightened. "Are you saying you want to stay?"

"Yes. I want to stay."

"Thank God. I don't know what I would have done if you said no…" He kissed her fiercely, and Amanda knew she had made the right decision.

When Jesse finally lifted his head, he was breathing hard. "I see that I'm going to have to ask Forrest for leave to get married, so I can make an honest woman of you."

"Married? You mean-"

"I don't know how they do it in the twentieth century," Jesse said dryly, "but in 1864, people in love get married to each other." He glanced at the dress, then added, "Just please don't decide to wear that particular dress."

Caught between laughter and happy tears, Amanda said, "I won't. I promise. Now that I have found the man of my dreams, after all this time, I have no intention of taking any chance of losing him."

******************

It was a quiet wedding, and due to the urgency of war, a brief one. Jesse wore his best gray uniform, and Amanda wore a simple cotton gown that Deborah said was elegant. in its simplicity.

"But I still don't understand," she said with a sigh, "why you refuse to borrow my dress. Don't you like it?"

"Oh, yes," Amanda said with a smile, and her glance at Jesse was so mischievous he had a hard time not laughing. "I have to say it's my favorite dress. I just wanted something of my very own. I hope you understand."

"I suppose so. It barely fits me now. Why, when I put it on to have my portrait done, I could hardly get all the buttons fastened."

"That," Michael said, "is because of your condition."

Deborah blushed and protested, "No, it's because one of the buttons is missing. I've looked everywhere for it but can't find it. I guess it just popped off somewhere."

"I'm sure that's it," Amanda agreed. "It's a shame Jamie couldn't be here for the wedding, but I understand that General Forrest has taken him with him to Tupelo."

Michael, his face healed now, grinned. "He's not sorry to go. If there's anything Jamie likes better than fighting Yankees, I don't know what it is."

Jesse smiled as his gaze drifted back to Amanda. Maybe it was wrong, but he'd helped her convince Jamie that she was a distant cousin from England. Fortunately, there were enough cousins that Jamie wasn't really certain which side of the Brandons she came from, and they'd been purposely oblique. One day they might tell them all the truth, but not now.

The war occupied their minds these days. The summer of '64 had started out with high hopes, but Jesse suspected that Confederate advantages wouldn't last long. He'd finally completed his mission into Memphis-without risking Amanda. As she had predicted, General Forrest staged a daring raid into Memphis. His brother Bill had ridden into the lobby of the Gayoso House on his horse, and Forrest's other brother Jesse had driven Washburn from his quarters in the wee hours of the morning. All of Memphis had rocked with laughter at the Yankee commander publicly fleeing in his nightshirt.

Even though she offered to tell him, he'd not allowed Amanda to reveal the ultimate end of the war. He believed in his choice, and he wanted to feel free to give it his all.

"Jesse?" Amanda said softly, and he looked down at her and smiled. "I love you," she whispered.

"Then come with me."

"To the attic?" she protested when she saw where he was taking her, and he grinned as he shut the door behind them.

"It's the most private spot in the house right now. Besides, I feel like this is where it all began for us."

Glancing around, Amanda nodded. "I feel the same. There is something special about this place, though I think it was the gown that brought us together-Jesse, look."

"What is it?" he asked when she bent and picked up a small white object and held it up to the light from the open window.

"I think it's the missing button to Deborah's wedding dress."

Jesse took it from her when she held it out. It rested on his palm, pale and luminous and dangerous. Time hovered in his hand, beckoning. Looking up, he met Amanda's steady gaze and saw the question in her eyes. He took a deep breath, then strode to the open attic window and flung the button out into the yard. He turned around, half expecting Amanda to be angry.

She was smiling. "Does this mean you think I might be tempted to leave? Not a chance, Jesse Jordan. You're stuck with me forever."

He grinned. "I can think of worse fates."

Then she was in his arms, and as he bent his head to kiss her, he had the thought that he had to be the luckiest man who had ever lived in any century.

Lindsey House, present day

On the third floor of the guest wing, with a light spring rain streaking the windows of the English manor house, Amelia Jamison thought about destiny.

"Pick a card," her friend Penny Bickham urged. She laughed. "Any card." The tarot deck was fanned out on the Oriental carpet, shadows from the flames in the fireplace dancing over the intricately patterned wool.

Amelia's hand trembled only slightly as she finally settled on one. She trusted Penny completely, since the day they'd first met as college roommates. Since that time, they'd gone in separate and very creative directions. She to England because of her work in manuscripts at the British Museum, and Penny to fame and fortune in New York as an incredibly talented floral designer.

Amelia slowly turned the card over and immediately regretted it. The Death card in the Waite deck stared back at her, the dark skeleton astride his white warhorse, the battlefield littered with bodies.

"Appropriate for the night before a wedding, don't you think?" She tried to put a humorous spin on the whole thing, desperate not to reveal how terribly apprehensive she was about marrying Hugh.

"It's not what you think it is." Penny pushed her dark, chin-length hair behind her ears and leaned forward, studying the card. "If it had been the Tower-"

They both stopped, aware of someone else in the room.

"I brought you some tea," the maid announced as she came in, tray in hand. "Mrs. Edwards thought you might like a little something before retiring."

"I do love the Brits," Penny muttered as she gathered up the cards. "There's nothing a cup of tea won't cure."

"Tell me about that card," Amelia insisted. She stood, dusted off the seat of her skirt, then sat in one of the chairs flanking the fireplace.

"Total transformation," Penny said as she sat down in the overstuffed chair across from Amelia. "Which, considering that tomorrow you'll be a married woman, is entirely appropriate."

"But it doesn't mean anything bad."

"No. People just get all creepy when they see the word 'death.' It can represent the death of one sort of consciousness and its replacement with another."

"Hmmm." Amelia busied herself cutting slices of the rich chocolate sponge cake, then pouring them both cups of strong black Indian tea.

The maid hovered in the doorway. Amelia, aware of her presence, didn't have the heart to ask the young woman to leave. She'd been in service to the Lindseys for several years, and had been assigned the task of helping Amelia get ready for her wedding day.

Which was tomorrow. Her classic bridal gown, carefully pressed, hung in her bedroom closet. The caterers had then-elaborate preparations under control, the calligraphers had long since finished with the place cards, and the musicians were hopefully getting a good night's sleep and would do their very best tomorrow.

Penny would be in the garden at dawn, carefully selecting the most perfect blooms for her bridal bouquet. Penny's designs were exquisite, and this one would be a masterpiece. Calla lilies, French tulips, and full-blown peonies. She would also pick sweet peas and violets, hand wiring them into the all-white bouquet Amelia had decided upon, then carefully braiding narrow white satin ribbon over the stems.