Some Enchanted Dream: A Time Travel Adventure (Seasons of Enchantment Book 2) (23 page)

"Will he? Sometimes the centuries between us seem like a vast chasm."

"It has to be easier for him to adjust to an age of new technology than it was for us to go backward through time to the epoch of candlelight and corsets. I hear they even have phones now, land line, of course." Dan seemed to settle back into his old self as he spoke about the changes he saw around him. "The booth at the expo claims there are over 2,000 telephones in use in Paris homes and businesses. Mostly wealthy homes, but it's fun to see these things take on."

Tara was relieved to have him stop acting as if she were royalty and revert back to their old, familiar friendship. She smiled at him, wanting to hear more about his adventures in this new environment. "What have you been doing with yourself these past weeks? I hope you've had a chance to see the sights of Paris."  She didn't add that if not for Adrian and his fussing over her safety, she would have been out walking the city every day to see all the wondrous sights herself.

The question about his expeditions had been a wise choice. Dan launched into an exuberant re-telling of his visits to the wax museum, the train station, the hospital, and the Paris Morgue. "Even I was shocked, and that's hard to do. They have daily showings of unidentified corpses, an actual public gallery. It's free of charge. And people show up in droves to see new bodies. They remain on public display for three days. If someone doesn't claim them, they are sold to local doctors for ten francs."

"That's morbid." Tara wrinkled her nose. At least she was finished eating. She looked around them at the restaurant patrons in their Victorian finery amid the exquisite dining room lit by flickering globes of gaslight above. "I couldn't visit the morgue for idle entertainment. What kind of society would openly embrace that kind of behavior?"

"Oh, I don't know," Dan chuckled. "What kind of society embraces weekly entertainment promising grisly, half decomposed corpses as a regular feature of the show. Have you forgotten the allure of those forensic detective TV shows from our time?"

"But those aren't real bodies," she leaned forward to whisper. "They're mannequins."

Her companion shrugged, but she could tell by the gleam in his eyes he was enjoying this conversation, and her discomfort, a little too much. "Well, apparently the Parisians like their morbid displays of death. A few years back, a four year old girl was found dead in a stairwell with no apparent injuries and no parents to claim her. They put her in a nice dress and set her up in a chair that had been covered with a red cloth, sort of like a museum display. They say her corpse attracted over fifty thousand viewers."

Tara shuddered inwardly and tried to erase the mental picture. "That's just creepy."

"No, it wasn't for sport. The police did that to help identify her. Someone in the crowd recognized the child and they were able to solve that case. That's part of the reason they do it, they rely on visitors coming through to help them identify the anonymous dead." He took a sip of wine.  "One of the doctors at the morgue told me that there are so many bodies dragged from the river these days that the government set up nets downstream to catch them. Murder has increased recently, and suicides too, according to the local morgue attendants."

That didn't make sense. Why, in this lovely, peaceful, enlightened society would there be more murders, and more suicide attempts? It should be the opposite. This was a time of hope, of change and progress. "Shall we walk the boulevard?" She felt the need to get out into the fresh spring night. The scents of heavy perfume and warm bodies in the crowded room was cloying, and the wine was making her a little light headed.

Dan nodded. "Are you paying or am I?"

"I'll take care of it." She rose from her chair and a waiter materialized next to her.

"Are you finished, Madame?"

"Yes, I need someone to pay this bill for me," Tara said aloud.

The waiter just frowned at her.

Perhaps it didn't work unless you looked a person directly in the eye?

Uncertain, she looked about at the clustered tables, and repeated the phrase aloud.

An older gentleman with a fine white beard and mutton chop sideburns stood up from the table to her left. He looked like a wealthy businessman. "My dear, allow me to settle that for you." He started to move toward the counter where the bills were settled.

Tara touched his arm, making the man pause and look at her. "May prosperity and good fortune be your portion, and good health be your future."

"Thank you, Miss, it is a pleasure to serve you." He said, and wandered happily away.

Dan was staring at her with that disconcerting expression again, the one that bordered on goddess worship.

"Stop that. I'm just using the Fey gift of acquiring to secure what we need."

"Neat trick. Are you going to fly us home now? I've a confession to make. I'm not a good flier." Dan walked slowly beside her on the sidewalk as she could not take long strides in her cumbersome skirts.

"I prefer to take the omnibus," Tara replied. "I enjoy the view, especially at night. Paris is so beautiful at night, with all the gaslights illuminating the boulevards."

"Yeah, it is relaxing. I can swing that expense."

They walked for a time, enjoying the night sounds of the city, and the scent of blossoms in the air. Laughter echoed here and there from an open windows of cafes. Music from the concert hall mingled with the steady sound of horses hooves and wooden wheels turning in the paved streets as carriages ambled by.

"Regarding your man," Dan said at last in a paternal tone. "A little food for thought."

"Oh, don't," Tara sighed. "Please, don't try to defend him."

"Not defending him." He stopped after they had walked a block and gestured to an open bench between two chestnut trees. "Wouldn't dream of it. Just had a thought, is all." He sat down, crossing his knees and then putting his palms on them to brace himself.

A couple passed them by and offered a polite greeting in French. Dan nodded to them, and smiled pleasantly as Tara took her seat next to him.

"Let's say he was okay with you supporting him with your shiny new fairy gifts. Let's say he was more than okay with it. What if he were the kind of man who would want you to exploit that gift for his own gain?  Would you respect a man who thought like that? Or would you be worried, maybe wonder in the back of your mind if he truly loved you as he claimed or was he just playing you to get the free meal pass?"

Put that way, it did give her anger a serious dousing. She couldn't imagine Adrian being such a feckless, selfish creature. He was a proud man, true. But he was also firm in his convictions, determined to shoulder the burden of providing for his family.

"No. But, still, if he's so worried about our finances, why won't he let me help him? He could accept my offer graciously, and then just find a way to make money. Instead, he became upset. He started ranting about how it would unman him if I supported him, it's so medieval."

"Look at you." Dan reached up the chuff her chin with the back of his hand. "Able to move through time in the blink of an eye, to move from place to place within the city just by thinking hard. Where does that leave him? Maybe he needs to feel there is something he can contribute to this relationship, even if it's just mundane things like paying the rent."

Yes. Adrian's pride had been knocked pretty flat in the past weeks.

It was hard to stay mad at  him with Dan arguing in his defense.

Tara left the apartment not sure if she were even coming back tonight, she'd been so angry. Now, she wanted nothing more than to be there again with Adrian.

Chapter Nineteen

When Tara arrived home, she found her husband across the hall conversing with her brothers. She expected dark looks from him, and an insistence upon going to their own abode to continue their argument. As it was, she left him before she said things she'd regret.

Dan entered with her, so she knew she had at least one ally should things become heated between them again.

"Did you enjoy your dinner out, my lady?"

The question was couched in innocence, and yet, when Tara met her husband's eyes, she could see the challenge in them.

"It was delicious," Tara held her husband's gaze. "Wasn't it, Dan?"

"Best steak dinner I've had in a long while," the big man replied with a cocky grin. "Too bad you couldn't have joined us, Dillon. You would have liked the place. High end. So, Doc," Dan turned to Riley, pointedly not giving Adrian the opening for an impudent reply, "how is Arthur? Any change since I left him?"

"He is sleeping naturally. I managed to coax him out of the trance state. I will not know until he awakens how his mental state will be." Riley's soft, soothing tone had that unusual singing bowl quality again, a sign he was trying to beguile those around him and ply them with serenity. "Why don't the three of you retire for the night. Mick and I will watch over him."

"Excellent idea." Adrian placed an arm around Tara's waist and attempted to herd her to the door. "I would relish time alone with my wife. We parted badly and left things unsaid."

"I'm going to step out for a little while. You two go on ahead." Dan's broad grin made Tara scowl in his direction, but she allowed Adrian to lead her to the hall.

*  *  *

I love this place
, Dan thought as he walked through the arched doors of the
Coq Bleu.
Tara could not have picked a more glorious time period to take us to.

He had taken refuge tonight in the new cabaret that opened earlier this spring, just in time to draw the crowds visiting Paris for the exposition. It was just a few blocks from their apartment building, and offered a rousing good time for a modest coin. Female dancers were the main attraction. They whirled in a lineup of vivid red skirts, and swirled in a choreographed show of lights, sound, music and sensuality. Each woman lifted her billowing skirts, allowing the men to admire long, shapely legs clad in black silk stockings for a few tantalizing seconds. One woman would drop her display and another would raise the flag so to speak, doing a high kick with her leg exposed, captivating the audience. The dancers performed a scintillating grand finale by lining up with their backs to the audience, bending over, and revealing frilly lace edged knickers that barely covered their assets.

The men cheered and tossed up their hats, and the women ran backstage.

Okay, so it was primitive and gaudy as hell, but he
loved
it.

Every man loved the deliciously naughty sight of a woman bending over to reveal long, luscious legs and a nice round bottom. The women were seriously overdressed if compared to the Vegas showgirls of his time who had turned string undergarments into an art form. But that covered up look made the whole peek-a-boo sensation that much more alluring. It was very risqué, for the Victorian set.

And once the dancing show was over,
hell
, a man could not ask for a better place to find amusement. There were a variety of smaller shows taking place on smaller stages; trained seals, fire jugglers, magicians and leggy female acrobats in pink tights. There were card games in a back room, and tables for two outside in the gardens behind the building. He could just imagine what things went on outside in the garden hedges once a couple wandered away from the cluster of tables on the patio. The first dancing girl show had just finished. There would be another in an hour or so. The lovelies moved through the crowd, chatting up customers. A few disappeared with a gentleman in tow to parts unknown.

Dan smiled and nodded to the other men he'd seen at the Montmartre bars and cafes in the evenings. There were plenty of new faces due to the expo, but there were locals who frequented the same haunts he did who were starting to treat him as one of their own.

The bright red walls and glittering chandeliers evoked a sensation of excitement, as did the clink of champagne glasses. The frosted glass wall sconces were shaped like tulips, further adding to the undercurrent of sensuality. Refreshment tables were set up on all sides of the room, offering patrons cherry brandy, champagne, and absinthe. The place drew men of every rank to see the lovely females moving about in exotic costumes. It was a happy, vibrant place.

A sliver of guilt shot through him as he thought of Arthur, so sick in bed after having had a bad reaction to some liquor. According to Doc Riley, the danger was past, and Art just needed rest. Dan hadn't wished to linger in the Fey brother's small one room apartment that was already too crowded, and he didn't want to hang about the apartment he shared with Tara and her man. The honeymooners were going to make up after their spat, or they were going to continue it. Either way, Dan didn't want to be close enough to hear them.

He understood Tara's frustration with the man. Yet, he also felt a little sorry for Adrian. He was a man out of time, a man whose antiquated beliefs about domestic life were at odds with the fiery Tara's future sensibilities. When they trespassed into Adrian's time, Tara tried to fit in to that world. It was a matter of survival, as a woman lost in time she had to play by the rules laid out for her. Now, Adrian had been brought forward in time by nearly a century, and to be fair, it was taking poor Romeo time to adjust to the fact that Tara wasn't the domestic type. 

I should bring Adrian here. Might cheer the poor fellow up.

Ah, but what would Tara think of him if he took her husband to a nightclub famous for dancing girls? Wouldn’t be fair and that was the truth. He nodded to a few fellows who he’d met before here and there, and moved through the crowd toward the refreshment table. He was thirsty.

What about the charmed pair?
Would Mickey G. and Doc Riley come here if invited?

Dan’s lips split wide in amusement at the idea of Mick, with his white blond hair, alluring baby blues and charming smile versus the more stoic Doc Riley coming to such a place to relax and enjoy the scenery. Mick would charm all the women in the place and make the men jealous, as his recent look was one of a twenty something male model from the cover of GQ. In Ireland, Mick had assumed the appearance of a gruff old sea captain. The man—er—fairy—had the gift of glamoury and could change his appearance as it suited him.