Weathering Rock

by Mae Clair

  “Don’t.” Caleb stood and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to become involved in this.”

  “Caleb.” Wyn warned. “Don’t be foolish.”

  “I’m tired, Winston.” Caleb raised his head, locking eyes with the doctor. “Tired of pretending.”

  “Don’t say another damn word!”

  “Hey, everything okay in here?” Before anyone could move, Lauren opened the door, peering worriedly around the corner. “Rick took off like he’d seen a ghost and–” She stopped, alerted to the heavy tension in the room. Uncertain, she stole a glance at Caleb. “Someone said you were sick.”

  “No. It’s just a headache.” He pulled back from Arianna with a vague wave for his temple. “I’ll be fine. You should go back to your other guests.”

  “There you are!” Daphne’s voice bounced from the hallway. Without waiting for an invitation, she plowed into the room, pulling a brooding brown-haired man behind her. “Someone said you came down this way. Look Ari, I found Seth. You’ve got to say hello!”

  Arianna forced a smile. That immediately froze on her face.

  Seth Reilly was far from handsome. With short, straight brown hair, blunt features and a swarthy complexion, he had little to recommend him. His mouth was too thin, pinched and haughty. She would have pegged him as ugly if she hadn’t looked into his eyes. Coffee-black, glittering like obsidian stone, they swallowed her whole. She shivered beneath the fondling touch, startled by a ripe surge of sexual desire. Something red-veined and hot streaked through her, a wave so powerful her knees wobbled. Mesmerized, she took a step forward.

  “No!” Caleb’s curse shattered the spell. With a snarl of rage, he slammed Seth backward into the wall, his hands fisted into the man’s black t-shirt. “You will not taint Arianna with your lust, you sick, murderous bastard.”

  His rage wrenched Arianna from her stupor.

  Daphne screamed. Seth stiff-armed Caleb aside, sending a lamp crashing to the floor, where it shattered into a dozen pieces. His triumph was short-lived when Caleb recovered and caught him with an uppercut to the jaw. Seth’s head snapped backward beneath the blow, his lips stretching in a snide grin as if he appreciated the shot. He spat something vulgar and lunged. In a grapple for dominance, both men tumbled over the couch.

  “Caleb, stop!”

  Arianna might as well have been screaming at the wind for all the good it did.

  Seth kneed him in the gut, clawing his way to the top. He bared his teeth, straddling Caleb’s waist, his hands locked around his throat. “I made you what you are. I own you, DeCardian. You can’t master me.”

  “I’ll kill you,” Caleb spat, but it was clear he was losing the battle. Unable to break the grip on his neck, he pushed a hand into Seth’s face. Behind him, Wyn grabbed the letter opener from Lauren’s desk and struck at Seth.

  With a howl like a wounded animal, Seth staggered backward, one hand clamped tightly to his arm. Blood welled between his fingers, his skin blistered as if he’d been burned by acid.

  “Seth!” Frightened, half-sobbing, Daphne rushed to his side.

  “Get out of my way!” He thrust past her and bolted into the hallway where curious onlookers had gathered, drawn by the commotion.

  “Lauren, get them out of here,” Wyn ordered.

  She didn’t argue but stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Arianna heard her fluff off the brawl as a misunderstanding, saying Caleb had reacted badly to a lewd remark Seth made about Arianna’s outfit. It was a good cover. If Lauren wanted to use her as a catalyst for the fight, it made more sense than anything else that had happened that night.

  “Caleb?”

  “I’m going to take him to Weathering Rock,” Wyn said, helping his brother up from the floor.

  Caleb shook him off, briskly straightening his uniform. Arianna thought he would snap a reply, but he was composed. “How did you know?”

  Wyn shrugged. “Daphne called him Seth. Based on the violence of your reaction…” He looked at the bloody letter-opener clutched in his hand, hefting it for Caleb to see. “Silver. I figured if he can change at will, he’d have to be susceptible all of the time.”

  Caleb’s lips curled in a slow grin. “I owe you for that, Winston.”

  “You owe me several. Now take some medical advice and let me drive you home.”

  “I’ll take him,” Arianna volunteered. She didn’t understand half of what they’d said, but wanted to put distance between Caleb and the party. “Caleb and I have a lot to talk about. You can sort out the rest later.”

  Before either could answer, Lauren reappeared in the doorway. “All right, you three. I don’t need to know what’s happening. At the moment, I don’t care. All I’ve got to say is this has been an amazing party. It’s going to be a long time before anyone forgets it.”

  * * * *

  It hadn’t gone like he’d planned.

  Seth paced, furious for being caught off guard. It was humiliating to command immense power, yet be crippled by the infectious taint of silver. The next time he crossed paths with DeCardian, he’d make sure no one was there to help the coward. When he got around to killing DeCardian, he’d off the fuck-face doctor too. Anyone bold enough to attack him earned a walking death sentence. Maybe he’d make Caleb watch; show him what happened when he relied on others for protection.

  He prodded the cut on his arm. It wasn’t deep, but the sting leeched into his veins with the lick of fire. He’d ditched Daphne a few steps outside the door and taken off on his own. Tolerating her frilly Bo-Peep lace had made him want to puke. She wasn’t even a good fuck. He’d kill the whiny bitch for the pleasure, if he didn’t think she might be useful in bringing down Caleb.

  Arianna, on the other hand, intrigued him, got his balls randy and hot. Up close, she was even better looking than he’d imagined, all legs and curves. With a little effort he’d have her begging for sex, and wouldn’t that drive pious Saint DeCardian insane? To have the woman he fancied panting after his enemy like a bitch in heat?

  Seth chuckled.

  The party was a bust, but the entertainment was just beginning.

  Chapter 18

  Arianna didn’t know if she was wired or exhausted. Beside her, Caleb slouched in the passenger seat of her Sebring, head tipped back, his eyes closed. He’d popped the top several buttons of his uniform, leaving the white undershirt gaping at his throat. In the gathering darkness, his pale hair gleamed medallion-bright, threaded with strands of moon-filtered silver. He looked rumpled, fatigued and sexy as hell.

  Arianna bit her lip, surprised by her thoughts, given the recent chain of events. Her mind should have been on Rick Rothrock, ball lightning, or Caleb’s violent reaction to Seth Reilly. At the very least, on his lingering headache. Instead all she could think about was how he’d kissed and caressed her until she’d been senseless with desire.

  He said he was falling in love with me.

  “Caleb?”

  “What?” He didn’t open his eyes.

  “How’s your headache?”

  “Fading.”

  She turned her attention back to the road, listening to the hum of passing traffic. The bunny ears had come off the moment she’d gotten into the car, tossed in the back with her purse. She fluffed a hand through her hair, thinking of the photograph she’d scanned, printed and tucked inside her tiny clutch bag.

  It was proof. Concrete evidence to shove under his nose and demand an explanation point-blank. Except he hadn’t denied who he was. He simply hadn’t admitted it, leaving her no better off than before.

  She bit her lip, wondering if it was wise to press the issue when the strain of the evening had taken a toll on him. When her own feelings were hopelessly entangled with love and desire.

  She took one hand off the wheel long enough to affectionately run her fingers through his bangs. He grunted faintly, eyes still closed, but his mouth softened with the ghost of a smile.

  She
’d fallen in love with him too. Her smile mirrored his, her fingertips tingling with the shared warmth of that brief connection.

  By the time they reached Weathering Rock, the deep lines of fatigue gathered at the corners of his eyes had eased. He moved sure-footedly through the darkness to the parlor. Arianna fumbled behind him, eventually locating a lamp on an end table. She switched it on and a nest of shadows sprouted across the floor, racing from the butter-churned glow.

  “Caleb?”

  Restless, he flung his hat onto a chair. His weariness had dimmed, but she felt tension roll from him as he began to pace.

  “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” She was uncertain how to address the shock he’d received at the party. He’d come face to face with a younger incarnation of his father, a man he’d thought long dead. Even if she removed the emotional impact, he’d surely never suspected his father of belonging to another century. “You’re thinking about Rick Rothrock.”

  He shot her a glance, never ceasing his jittery pacing. “I don’t want to discuss this.”

  Like she hadn’t seen that coming. He never wanted to discuss anything vital. Uncertain if she should press, she waffled indecisively. He’d just received the shock of his life, had been in a fistfight, and was somehow responsible for triggering a shower of ball lightning. All things considered, he deserved some slack.

  Except the impossibilities were too important to ignore. She’d gone out on a limb by making a bold declaration based on gut instinct: What he’s trying to tell you Wyn, is that Rick Rothrock is his father.

  “Caleb, we have to talk about it.”

  “Not now.” Unfastening the remaining buttons on his coat, he sank into the couch. “Thank you for the ride home. I hope I didn’t ruin Lauren’s party. It wasn’t my intent.”

  Changing the subject. He definitely knew how to employ a diversionary tactic.

  “I’d hardly say it was ruined. It will end up being the talk of Sagehill for the rest of the summer. Daphne might be upset, but only because you spoiled her big moment.”

  “Your sister?” Frowning, Caleb rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work free a crick. “She’s the one who came with Seth.”

  Arianna nodded. Her impression of Daphne’s boyfriend had been volatile and brief, a jumble of images and sensation, cut abruptly short when Caleb exploded in a fit of temper. She’d felt an abominable deluge of sexual desire and, for one incomprehensible moment, hadn’t been able to think of anything but the feel of Seth’s hands roughly groping her body. He’d made her feel erotic, wanted, and dirty all in the same breath.

  Chilled, she dusted her hands against her arms. How could a man–an ugly, condescending man–make her feel anything so revolting? If Caleb didn’t want to discuss Rick, maybe he’d talk about Seth. “What did he do to you?”

  “Reilly?” Caleb grimaced. Sitting forward, he braced his legs apart, resting his elbows on his knees. She could tell his mind was elsewhere, back on the party, on Rick. “It’s personal. And old.” He tugged absently at his collar, exposing the scar on his neck. The sight made her think of the photograph stashed in her purse. He was drawing lines again, marking boundaries she couldn’t cross. They were both tired and emotionally spent, but she’d run out of patience.

  “Everything is personal with you, Caleb.” She switched the lamp up a notch and saw him wince against the glare. Determined, she rummaged in her purse until she found the photograph she’d scanned that morning. She’d been able to play with the clarity, enhancing the resolution. Tossing her purse aside, she unfolded the sheet of paper and slapped it on the coffee table under his nose.

  Caleb’s eyes dropped to the picture.

  Arianna stood still, watching his face for reaction. Try to worm your way out of this one, Colonel DeCardian. For the span of five heartbeats, the only sound to break the silence was the methodic tick-tock of a tall grandfather’s clock.

  “I never did like that mustache,” Caleb said at last.

  She exhaled in a rush, her breath whistling noisily between her teeth. “That’s all you’ve got to say?” She had expected denial, excuses, patronizing double-talk. But an offhand reference to his mustache? Good God, if she was a cat, she’d have all her claws in the ceiling!

  “Aren’t you going to tell me I’m crazy?” She waved at the photograph, her voice climbing shrilly. “Aren’t you going to deny that’s you?” She wanted a logical explanation, something to make her believe she wasn’t living a science-fiction nightmare.

  “Why?” In contrast to her screeching anxiety, his tone was soft, his gaze steady. “We both know it’s me.” Reaching for the photo, he lowered his eyes. “This was taken shortly after the final day of battle at Gettysburg. Sometimes I still think I’m back there. Like the night I met you. The fog, my headache. When I took that spill from my horse, for a moment I thought I was taking intelligence to General Meade.” He smiled bitterly and set the picture aside. “Did you ever wake up in the middle of the night, the middle of a dream, and have absolutely no idea where you are? Try waking up in a different century. It takes getting used to.”

  “I’m not certain I can get used to it.” Unnerved, Arianna sank beside him. Finally, he was opening up. She stared, drinking in his features as if seeing him for the first time. “Then this isn’t a game? Or some kind of secret government experiment on conditioning and mind control? I could buy that a lot easier than thinking you’re…” Unable to finish, she trailed off in a strained whisper. Even when she’d convinced herself of the unlikely truth, she’d been certain he’d deny it. She’d wanted him to deny it. “How is it possible?”

  “I wish I knew.” He took her hand, curling his fingers around hers. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I never want you to be afraid.” He brushed a kiss across her knuckles, the warm caress of his breath quieting her panic. “I should probably introduce myself properly. My full name is Caleb Rothrock DeCardian.”

  Arianna gasped. She’d assumed the ‘R’ in his middle name stood for ‘Richard.’ He’d been named after his father, but not in the manner she’d expected.

  “Then he really is your father,” she breathed.

  Caleb nodded. “Somehow. Someway. I can only surmise he went backward in time, the same as I’ve come forward. I just didn’t expect…to see him there tonight. It changes everything, Arianna. I have no idea what it means or how it fits, but it’s vital I find out. For all I know, my mother might be from your era as well.”

  “No.” Arianna shook her head. “I checked into all of that. Your mother’s lineage can be traced back several generations on both sides through her parents. Your father is another story. He has no history prior to 1831. It’s like he popped out of thin air.”

  He nodded. “Because he did. When I touched him at the party, a thousand memories passed between us. Memories from my life and his. He might not believe it or understand what happened but, deep down, he realizes–he knows–who I am.”

  She wet her lips. She’d seen the terror in Rick’s eyes when he’d fled the party. Getting him to sit and talk was not going to be easy. “He’s scared.”

  “And you think I’m not? My God, I just saw my father and he looks the same age I am!”

  “This is crazy!” She stood and paced off a rapid circle, returning to hover at the edge of the couch. “You need to start at the beginning. Help me understand. Your father’s name, according to the research I did, it was Richard DeCardian, not Richard Rothrock.”

  “Yes. Charles and I–my brother–were given the same middle name–Rothrock. We were told it was a family name. My father went by Richard and my mother, Isabel. I was born on March 23, 1833 in the rear bedroom upstairs. Winston never knew my middle name. With all of the other issues we’ve had to address, it never seemed important. He was more focused on the fact I was from another century. The man put me through ridiculous health checks. Everything from something called cholesterol to vitamin deficiencies to…to…” He trailed off, a red flush spreading over his che
eks.

  “To what?” Intrigued by his uncharacteristic discomfort, Arianna sat down beside him.

  “Nothing.”

  “Caleb.” She gave him a look that said she wasn’t going to be put off by a dismissal. Anything that could make a man of Caleb’s commanding demeanor blush was worth investigating. “Tell me what you were going to say.”

  He rummaged up a scowl, the likes of which she was certain he’d used to grand effect on junior officers. “Damn it, woman, it’s nothing! I swear you’re worse than a reb soldier on a march, never content to leave well enough alone. It isn’t something a man discusses with a woman he’s not…” Agitated, he groped for the right words. “Intimate with.”

  “Oh!” No wonder he was mortified. Unable to contain herself, she choked back a giggle. “Let me guess. Wyn tested you for sexually transmitted diseases?”

  He bristled. “I’m glad you find it so amusing. Are you satisfied now?”

  “That depends. What was the outcome?”

  “Arianna.”

  “Yes, Colonel, I know–” She flashed a teasing smile. “It’s not proper and ladylike, but you’ve piqued my curiosity. Women are worse than cats when we want an answer.”

  “I passed with flying colors,” he growled, but she sensed his agitation was now strictly for show. In the next second he gave a snort of resigned laughter. “You see the benefit, or downfall, of having an ally who is also a doctor?”

  She grinned, pleased to find they could talk so openly. Somehow, Caleb’s old-fashioned morals made a safe sex discussion easier to swallow.

  “I’m glad Wyn looks out for you.” Back to the heart of their discussion. “But I’m still having a problem believing you’re from another century. I keep thinking it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up. I know you’re flesh and blood. I can touch you.” She gripped his hand where it rested on the couch, the feel of his skin rekindling the strength of her feelings. “Kiss you and feel your lips.” Emboldened by his direct stare, she skimmed her fingertips lightly over his mouth, her heart banging against her ribs. “I know you’re real, Caleb. I couldn’t fall in love with a ghost.”