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TWENTY-ONE
She just stared at him, like she didn't understand a word he'd just said. "What?" she said finally.
He was fast losing patience with her. Surely she didn't think he was a fool. "Don't mess with me, Carline. The last thing I remember before I died is your brother saying, very distinctly, that you'd killed me. What I want to know is why."
She nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. After a long moment, she said slowly, "All right. Is there anything else you remember, like what year this happened?"
Ah, so perhaps some time had passed since that fateful night, and her memory of it was not as clear as his. He must remedy matters, then. "It was the winter of 1834, shortly after the natives raided your brother's mill on the southern side of the river from Perth town. You must remember it." He wished he could remember more, but his memories past that last night were terribly hazy.
More nodding. "All right. Now, do you have a name, Mr Demon Protector, or what should I call you?"
Stan blew out a breath. God, she must think him a rude brute, and she'd be right. He hadn't even bothered to introduce himself.
He bowed low. "Please forgive me. I am Stanley Steel. Stan, if you wish."
"Stan – if I may call you Stan – this might come as a bit of a shock to you, but some time has passed since your death in 1834."
It was his turn to nod. Of course. He'd already come to that conclusion. It also explained why he could not use her kitchen.
"It's now the year 2020."
The...wait, what did she say?
"My name is Alethia Bell. I don't have a brother, and I've never killed anyone, least of all you. Also, I don't remember any attack on the Old Mill at South Perth, but as 1834 was a bit before my time, I hope you understand why I wasn't there."
Oh God. This was...he'd almost... "You're not Carline?" he blurted out.
A faint smile lifted her lips. "No, I'm not Carline, who doesn't sound like a very nice person if she killed you. I really am Alethia Bell. Well, Alethia Caroline Bell, if you want to be precise, but not Carline Bell."
"Carline Steel. Her name was Carline Steel," he said. Then he shook his head. "But you look just like her." The white gold hair, the well-rounded figure...
"Steel. A relative, then?" Alethia enquired.
"Second cousin. We were to be married," Stan said. Well, if his plan had succeeded. If Carline hadn't killed him...
"Was she...look, Stan, you seem like a nice enough guy and all, but if she killed you, I have to ask...was she happy about your engagement?" She looked almost afraid of what his answer might be.
Stan closed his eyes. "She didn't even know."
Alethia blew out a breath. "Well, so much for that as her motive. If she were still alive, we could ask her, but if she was around in 1834, she probably isn't around now. Look, I want to help you, especially after you helped me get home last night, but it's pretty early to be solving a nearly two hundred year old murder mystery. Especially if it's your murder, which I imagine is about as personal as these things get. So, I propose we both take a minute to think about that for a bit, and then we can regroup after I've had a shower. Maybe over coffee and breakfast?"
"A shower?" What did rain have to do with anything? And how could she possess rain?
"Ah. Yeah, not something they had here in 1834, I imagine. Um, I'm going to go into that room over there and wash. Naked."
Stan swallowed. A hundred times while she'd slept, he'd imagined her naked. He'd thought she was Carline, who he'd been dreaming about for years, but still...
"Do you...do you need my assistance with that?" he choked out. He couldn't even decide what he wanted her response to be.
She stared at him for a long moment, as through she was reading his mind. Perhaps she was. Finally, she said, "You know, I can't tell if that's supposed to be a come-on, or if you genuinely want to help."
Well, that made two of them.
She held up both hands. "I can probably hop in there by myself, and sit on the little plastic stool I've been using to shave my legs, and hop back here okay. But if you'd be willing to carry me to the kitchen, that I wouldn't refuse."
"Then I will do as you wish, Miss Bell."
"Alethia. I wish for you to call me Alethia."
He grinned. "Alethia, then."
She might not be Carline, but she was every bit as beautiful as Carline had been. Plus, she was alive and she already seemed to like him. After all, she hadn't even tried to kill him yet. And she had no brother to threaten his life for daring to look at her.
