Asher's Dilemma by Coleen Kwan Page B

time.”
    “Can we return to more serious matters?” Quigley jerked his head at the chronometrical device. “Since I cannot accomplish the task, it’s up to you to do it.”
    Asher narrowed his eyes. “You still haven’t told me why it’s so imperative to do so, and I won’t lift a finger until you’ve convinced me.” To emphasize his point he folded his arms across his chest.
    Quigley uttered a growl of sheer frustration. “Dammit, man, this is a tricky situation.” His gaze flickered towards Minerva.
    She knew him too well to misinterpret that glance. She scowled at him. “You wish to discuss the matter in private? I’m not to be trusted with your great secret? Very well, I shall leave you two gentlemen alone, if that’s what you want.”
    “No, stay, Minerva.” Asher stepped forward and blocked her path. “Whatever he has to say, he can say it to both of us.”
    The other man glowered at him. “Devil take it,” he growled almost to himself. “I don’t want to—”
    A tentative tapping at the door cut him off. As one, they all swiveled and stared at the shut door.
    “Mr. Quigley? Are you in there, sir?” Cheeves’s voice penetrated faintly through the stout iron.
    Asher strode across the room and cracked open the door. Perforce he had to grip the door hard as the gathering windstorm outside threatened to burst in. “What is it, Cheeves?”
    “I heard some cries coming from here. I thought I should check on—” He broke off to draw in a gasp. “Sir, your shirt!”
    “Just a little experiment that went awry. I’m fine, Cheeves.” He had to raise his voice as a violent squall rattled the roof and swirled through the open doorway into the workshop.
    “Oh, but you’ll catch your death of cold in that rag. Come into the house and I’ll lay out a fresh shirt for you, sir.”
    “I’m far too busy.”
    “But, sir, it will only take a few minutes.”
    Asher sighed, cast a resigned glance at Minerva and Quigley. “Very well, but let’s be quick about it.” He disappeared, shutting the door firmly behind him.
    As soon as they were alone, Quigley drew Minerva to the nearest chair and sat her down. She found herself grateful for the support. After all the shocks of the past few minutes, an uncontrollable trembling had taken hold of her body, and despite the lingering warmth of the workshop she felt chilled to the bone.
    Having seen her safely seated, Quigley moved to a workbench and began to toy with the paraphernalia littered upon it, studiously avoiding looking at her. In the silence the rising windstorm grew louder, baying like a wolf pack as it battered the outer walls and hurled flying debris against the windows.
    His withdrawal pained her. Even more so when she knew she was the cause. She cleared her throat. “You must know I didn’t mean it, Asher…that is, Quigley. I don’t hate you. I spoke out of turn because I was upset.”
    “I know you don’t hate me.” He twisted a piece of metal pipe, still avoiding her eye.
    “Well?” she eventually prompted.
    Dropping the pipe, he lifted his head. “I saw the look on your face when Asher fell.” Melancholy darkened his eyes. “I heard what you said to him. You love him.”
    The shock of his expression ran through her like a lance. “But I love you, and you are him, so doesn’t it follow that I should love him equally?”
    “Does it? I’m not so convinced of that. He and I are not the same because our experiences are different.”
    “But fundamentally you are the same man.”
    “No. I have learned one sobering lesson, but he will learn a different lesson. We can never be the same man.”
    His somberness made her throat constrict. She thought of the tender love letters he’d written to her and realized he was right. The Asher of the present couldn’t have expressed those emotions to her, only this man could. He was a different man, but still achingly familiar, a man she did love with all her heart.
    “I never knew this could be