Page 98 of Twin Flames
She’d been terrible about keeping in touch with people lately, even her dear father. Leading a double life, unable to tell people what was really going on, was disorientating.
Well Dad, I’m a time traveller now. I’ve fallen for this great guy who married me five hundred years ago, but in this life, he’s married to someone else. Well, two someone else’s actually.
She imagined the scenario. Yes, exactly. Who would even believe her? No wonder she had withdrawn.
She pressed the number to listen to the next message, trigger happy, ready to delete it in an instant at the first unwanted word. The number of unsolicited sales calls she received was a constant annoyance.
‘Hello, Cara. This is Kate. It was lovely to meet you at the villa in Seville the other day. I’m so sorry you were unwell, and we didn’t get a chance to talk properly. George explained that you wanted to know more about theTudor Kings’ Manuscript. It’s me who usually deals with those family matters, you see.’
Ouch.
‘Anyway, I’m back in London and am free this weekend if you want to give me a call. I’d be happy to help in any way I can. This is the best number to catch me on.’
There was a pause for a few seconds and then as if as an afterthought, Kate said, ‘By the way, my brother was most insistent I call. He’s taken rather a shine to you. He alwaysdid have good taste. Hope to hear from you soon. Bye.’ Kate chuckled, and the message clicked off.
Cara’s heart thudded. De-dum-de-dum. What? She was his sister! What a fool. And the memories of their meeting raced through her mind. He’d never once said, meet my wife, or let me introduce you to my wife. And Kate had never said anything about him being her husband. She realised now; they had been no more affectionate than any fond siblings.
Duh!
Cara had jumped to conclusions even though she had initially allowed herself to hope he was free. She had grown so used to not being able to be with him that at the first sign, she’d buckled.
Remorse flooded through her and not for the first time where George was concerned, she felt stupid. Things were rarely as they seemed. When would she learn? He had pleaded with her so many times not to jump to conclusions.
She began to laugh like a lunatic. Loud, joyful peals of laughter rocked her body as tears streamed down her face. Was she mad? Could it really be true that not only was he single, but he also had a wonderful sister who was trying to match-make?
Cara sipped her lukewarm tea, stunned. Within twenty-four hours she had gone from being optimistic, to the depths of despair, and now ecstatic with relief. How was it possible that such a simple misunderstanding could rock her world to the core?
One thing was certain, the Twin Flame mission, whatever it was, had woken her up. She had never lived so fully and experienced such a range of emotions as she had since falling in love with George. A warm glow spread through her body, and she sat transfixed; unable and not wanting to move.
London, 1536
Cara awoke shivering. Her nightgown was damp and plastered to her clammy skin. Her head was full of vivid images of George walking to the scaffold on Tower Green.
She shook her head and attempted to shake the dreadful vision. It was only a dream. There was no need to panic. They still had time to save him. She lay there dazed before the nightmare began to recede.
Cara’s heart pounded as she jumped out of bed. Worrying wasn’t going to help. They would break him out today. What were they waiting for? For King Henry to show mercy? That was a fool’s game. The king had never been in a more unpredictable state of mind. She would not leave George’s fate in his hands for one more day.
If he could give the order to execute his own devoted wife and replace her within a few weeks, why would he spare George?
Henry had made a clean sweep of the ranks, with Cromwell dancing to his tune, producing evidence on-demand to substantiate the hundreds of trumped-up charges against so many former favourites. Henry only had to point to his next target, and Cromwell found a way to make it work. He was like the devil’s conjurer. The truth was of no consequence in this evil court. No one dared question Henry, or they’d find themselves next in line to have their head whipped off. He was out of control.
Barely any of the key players from their inner circle were left. George was one of the last remaining few of the old guard. Anyone who reminded Henry of his life with Anne had better watch their back.
There was a loud thud. She rushed to the door to find Swifty peering up at her.
‘Morning, my lady.’
‘Hello, you. What’s going on?’
Swifty appearing at her door usually heralded bad news.
She ushered him in. It wouldn’t do for anyone to overhear their conversation.
‘What’s happening? Pray tell.’
‘It’s my lord.’
‘Yes.’ Cara couldn’t contain her impatience as Swifty pondered how to break the news to her.
