by Loyd, Sandy
“What more could a man ask?” Colin’s smile, dulled with sadness, never reached his eyes.
Everyone started talking at once, drawing their attention.
The Websters each gave Libby a hug. Then Giselle stood, waiting her turn. “I wish you happiness, Libby, for as long as time allows.” She winked. “Didn’t I tell you he wanted to marry you? I can sense these things.”
“Thank you, Giselle.” Libby hugged her tightly. “I am happy right now. What more could anyone ask for? Good friends and the love of my life all in the same room at the same time.” She took a step back and warned, “Don’t forget. We’re keeping our wedding a secret for the time being.”
Giselle smiled warmly. “I know, Libby. I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”
Colin interrupted. “If we want to see the balloon ascension, we need to hurry. I’ve had the hotel fix us a supper and provide a blanket for the afternoon. Come, you two. We don’t want to miss the show.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with the Websters and Giselle at the park-like grounds where hot air balloons had taken off.
Sitting on a blanket, watching the people all around, Libby thought back to events in her own time and noted similarities. Simon Harrington, a young man who’d been at the ball the night before, spotted Giselle and introduced himself. He claimed a spot next to her on the blanket. The Websters had their own blanket, which was laid out next to Libby and Colin’s.
Libby couldn’t remember a more carefree afternoon. The weather was wonderful, neither too hot nor too cold. The light breeze felt good on her face. Billowy, fluffy white clouds sailed through the sky, every now and again covering up the sun, cooling things off a bit.
On a bandstand in the distance, a band played the latest tunes while couples danced. Libby recognized some of the pieces, but didn’t know them by name. Life seemed to move at a much slower pace here in 1874. People of all kinds packed the park—children playing games, men talking with other men, women strolling with parasols, showing off their finest clothes.
When the balloons lifted off, it was another colorful sight to see, again reminding Libby of the Derby Festival. Every year, during the two-week celebration preceding the Kentucky Derby, there was a balloon race with a balloon glow the night before. Maybe that’s how the tradition started, she thought, feeling a little homesick and remembering Bev and their tentative plans. But she quickly recovered when she looked over at Colin and caught his smile. She’d be home soon enough. When that happened, there would be a hole in her heart a mile wide. Shoving that out too, she gazed up at the sky and the rainbow of colored balloons that headed for a distant target.
At dusk they enjoyed a sumptuous meal, compliments of the Galt House restaurant. The Websters had brought wine. Libby’s glass was never empty from the moment she sat down earlier in the afternoon. Pleased to watch another Derby Festival tradition, she was slightly tipsy when the fireworks started, not long after darkness set in.
All too soon the evening was over. As they headed back to the hotel, Libby marveled over the magic of the last two days and seeing life as it existed in the past. As much as she missed her modern conveniences, she couldn’t get over how people truly celebrated simple pleasures. Maybe even more so, because there weren’t so many distractions.
There was a joie de vivre—a love of life—present in everything they did. Children didn’t miss video games; after all, they hadn’t been invented yet. Instead, they took pleasure in hitting a ball with a stick and playing hide and seek. Adults didn’t care if there were no television or movies to watch. They enjoyed the afternoon’s festivities and the conversations at hand.
After observing it all, Libby finally understood it was the people and their interactions that made the world great. That never changed in over a hundred years. It suddenly hit her what a great gift she’d been granted—to remember this time and these people for the rest of her life.
Outside their hotel room, one Colin told her he was happy to be sharing openly with his wife, he opened the door.
“Come here, my tipsy vixen,” he said, picking her up and carrying her over the threshold and into the room. He placed her on the bed. “I enjoyed the day with you, Mrs. Thorpe, watching you have a good time. This has been one of the happiest in recent memory. When I’m with you, I feel as if everything’s right in the world.”
“I think the bed’s spinning.” Libby giggled. “I can’t believe you got me drunk on my wedding night.”
He sat down next to her and helped her sit, then began undoing her buttons. “I hope you’re not too intoxicated to partake of our wedding night, my dear.” He chuckled and continued in a more teasing vein. “I sensed you were a woman to lead me far astray, but I never imagined you’d be too inebriated to consummate our vows.”
Libby merely laughed. “Well, Mr. Thorpe, if I’m inebriated, it’s only because I want so badly what only you have to give.”
Boldly she gripped his shirt and tugged, bringing his lips to hers.
Chapter 18
The room seemed empty when Libby awoke. She vaguely remembered Colin easing out of bed earlier and telling her he wouldn’t be long. He promised they’d have the rest of the day together once he concluded his business. She got up, moved to the bathroom, and finished her morning rituals. Her riding habit was the easiest thing in her small wardrobe to put on without help. She slipped it on, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of how much energy it took to dress.
After impatiently pacing the length of the room, Libby finally sat in a chair near the window to wait for Colin.
She checked her timepiece and noted only a half an hour had passed, yet it felt like two. The sun rose higher above the horizon. It was too glorious a day to be inside. Decision made, she hurried out into the hallway.
At Giselle’s room, she rapped on the door several times with no response. Figuring she must still be sleeping, Libby glanced longingly toward the staircase. The outside beckoned. Colin’s warning about going out alone pricked her conscience, yet it would take too long to wait for Giselle. What could it hurt to take a quick walk on such a perfect morning?
Fresh air greeted her and sunshine warmed her face as she strolled up the block, enjoying the quiet. Most of the shops were closed and the streets were empty of both people and animals. When she reached a cross street, a view of the river caught her attention.
A big riverboat, its paddles slowly pushing the boat north, was a sight to see. It reminded her of the Belle of Louisville in her own time, and viewing one in the right setting was captivating. Libby continued walking toward the water, not paying attention to her surroundings until she neared the banks and realized she was utterly alone. She looked around. Everything looked peaceful. Still, something about the stillness bothered her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
Birds chirped and bees buzzed, but the sounds did little to ease the sense of dread that shot through her. Feeling a little out of her element, she turned to retrace her steps as Colin’s warning replayed in her head.
Someone yelled. She glanced behind her and noted a group of young teen boys headed her way. The thought that they were just kids and shouldn’t concern her quickly changed to alarm once she noticed their menacing expressions.
“Looky here. See what the river’s drug in, Jessie.” Libby took a closer look at the kid who’d spoken and realized he was older and most likely their ringleader. “Looks like we got us a bird ripe fer th’ pluckin’.”
“Yeah, Kid, look at her in her fancy getup. I bet she’s got sumthin’ worth stealin’. ”
“My thinkin’ exactly.”
The boys were still a ways from her when she turned around to walk backward up the hill. “Aren’t you a little young to be leading kids to accost innocent people taking in the sights,” she asked the obvious leader of the pack, piercing a pair of hard eyes with her bold stare.
With every hurried step, Libby worked at maintaining a safe distance, veering in the direction of Main Stree
t. Fear had her heart pumping, but she’d die before she would show that emotion.
“We’re old enough and they do what I tell them,” Kid answered, not taking his eyes off her.
“What happened to playing stickball or kick the can?” She only hoped she could keep him talking until she reached Main Street.
“Looks can be deceivin’.” His laugh held no humor. “Stickball’s a little dull for th’ likes of these brats. Like me, they prefer more sportin’ games.”
“So confronting someone alone is sporting to you? Where’s the challenge in that? Seems to me you guys are just a big bunch of bullies.”
“Doesn’t matter what ya call us, we’ll still be takin’ yer purse. Hand it over.”
Still moving backward in giant steps, Libby shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not carrying a purse.”
“Coin’s not the only thing someone like you is good for.”
Panicked, Libby turned and increased her speed to a full-on sprint. Even though most of the kids were fairly small, three or four were much bigger than she. Kid looked to be around her age and outweighed her by at least fifty pounds. They would hurt her if they caught her.
Her adrenalin pumped, spurring her on. She didn’t know how much of a lead she had, if any, but she wasn’t about to waste precious seconds looking back to see if they followed.
Someone grabbed her shirt from behind. She fought to pull out of his grasp and he ripped her bonnet off. He snatched a handful of her now uncovered hair, and her head snapped back, throwing her off balance. Pain ripped through Libby. The stench of alcohol that hit her was enough to terrorize her further. She kicked, scratched, and kneed him in the groin with force.
Swearing, he released her to grab his crotch. “Why, you bitch. Get ’er, boys,” he yelled.
Libby ran.
Hoofbeats sounded behind her and she increased her speed. As the rider closed the distance, she prayed one of them wasn’t on horseback.
A shot rang out.
Seconds later, a horse and rider came up from behind. “Good God, Libby!”
Recognizing Colin’s voice, she stopped and looked back. Struggling to control her labored breathing, she noted the others had dispersed as fast as roaches seeking cover when the light turns on.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing out here unescorted?”
She slumped with relief, thankful he’d come to her rescue. Until she caught his livid expression that said she’d gone above and beyond recklessness.
Anger, directed at herself, filled her. The sudden desire to go back home—to her own time—made her realize how out of place she felt here in the past. At this point, she didn’t need to be reminded of her stupidity. He’d told her not to go out without Giselle and now she knew why he hadn’t wanted her to go. She met his heated gaze with a lifted chin. “I was out for a walk, minding my own business.”
Heck, she was less than three blocks from her hotel. Suddenly living in 1874 wasn’t fun any longer. Worse, she missed Bev. Tears slid down the sides of her face as he dismounted and stormed over to her.
“Are you all right?” He stooped to pick up her bonnet that had fallen in the scuffle and handed it to her.
Nodding, she attempted to tie her bonnet with unsteady hands. “I’m fine, only shaken.”
“You should be shaken. When I realized it was you those boys were after, my heart almost stopped,” he said, still vibrating with anger. “I distinctly remember telling you to never go out unescorted,” he said with a steely edge to his voice. “Did you think I was jesting? And to be alone down by the river, of all places? Do you wish to die?”
“It’s broad daylight on a Sunday morning.” Her attempt at rationalization only enraged him further.
“So you think the gangs from the House of Refuge stop their brutality to pray just because it’s Sunday? My God, Libby, the little thugs are dangerous.”
“They’re just kids.”
“That might be true, but desperation makes them dangerous. They’ve nothing to lose. Do you realize what would have happened if I hadn’t been riding along?” He held out his hand, his expression unyieldingly cold. “Come.”
At the hotel entrance, he stopped and nodded. “I need to go to the livery. Go on up. I’ll be there shortly.” He turned to walk down the road, still leading his horse.
Libby could tell by the sound of his voice and his mannerisms that he was still angry, which did nothing to stop her mood from heading south.
Once in her room, she went over to the window and stood looking out, not seeing anything, wondering how life could be so unsafe for a woman. One couldn’t even walk down the street without being fair game for anyone bigger and stronger. Those who’d hounded her had been mere boys. Were they worse once they grew up? Did men think they could take what they wanted if they could get away with it? Was this what it was like for women in the past?
The thought horrified her.
The door opened and closed, announcing Colin’s return. She ignored him and kept her unseeing stare on the street below.
He strode farther into the room, and she sensed his attention was directed at her.
“I’m still trying to understand how you could be so thoughtless as to go out unescorted,” he finally said. “And down to the river, no less? The area is full of riffraff.”
Libby spun around. “I didn’t know it was unsafe.”
His jaw hardened. “You should have heeded my warning.”
“I went for a walk. A simple walk,” she said with a sinking heart. She couldn’t believe he was lecturing her, even though what he’d asked did make sense now that she’d been attacked. Still, she didn’t like it. Not one little bit.
“Why did you disregard my wishes?”
Hands on hips, she gaped at him, feeling as if she had to defend herself. “You think I intentionally disregarded your wishes? That I set out today to see what I could do to tick you off?” Problem was, she knew he had a right to be upset, but it didn’t slow her building anger.
“You completely ignored my orders and you know it,” Colin countered.
In no mood to be treated like a child, Libby lifted her chin. “For your information, Mr. Thorpe, I’m a grown woman.” She’d had enough of Dave’s instructions on how to dress and act, which made her a tad sensitive to being ordered about. It didn’t matter that Colin was only concerned with her safety and well-being. “I don’t need a man telling me what I can and cannot do,” she ground out.
His face reddened as the temperature in his voice dropped even lower. “And I’m telling you, as your husband, if you ever do that again, I’ll take you over my knee and tan your backside but good. Do you hear me?”
“How dare you!” Incensed, she poked him in the chest with a finger. “You think that because I wear your ring you have the right to tell me what to do?”
“You’re damned right I have that right. You’re my wife. I am responsible for you. It’s my duty to protect you.”
“You don’t own me. I am responsible for me—no one will ever own me. I told you when I met you that I answer to no man.”
Colin ran a hand through his hair. “How can I make you see how foolish your actions were?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and took a few deep breaths before his voice gentled. “Libby, this is a different era than you’re used to. My world is not the same as yours. Some situations are dangerous and it’s up to men to protect their women.”
She crossed her arms, not particularly happy to have something she’d discovered firsthand substantiated.
Glancing at her, he shook his head. “I can see that your attitude’s still combative. At this point, there seems to be nothing that’ll get through to you and I’m tired of arguing about it.” He caught her gaze, his dead serious. “I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but that’s the way it is. Now accept it. I’ll brook no further comment on the subject. Do you understand?”
Libby’s control snapped. “Oh, I understand,
all right,” she threw out in her most derisive tone. “I understand that men are Neanderthals in 1874.” Ignoring fresh tears, she raised her voice. “I hate being trussed up like a turkey. I hate the restrictive clothes. I hate wearing a bonnet.” She grabbed the thing off her head and threw it on the floor. “I hate the fact that there is no electricity, no cars—nothing that I’m used to. Everything here is different. The people are different. Nothing’s familiar. I can’t even take a walk by myself on a Sunday morning. It’s a woman’s torture chamber.”
She marched stoically to the bed and gave Colin one more defiant look, before sitting down with tears streaking down her face.
An expression of stunned horror flitted over his features. No one spoke for long seconds. Finally, he said in a quiet voice, “I’m sorry you hate it so much, Libby. But that doesn’t change my role, which is to make sure you are safe. Don’t you see? I died a thousand deaths when I recognized you in that thug’s clutches. My heart stopped at the thought that if I had been but a moment later, your throat could have been slit. You attacked him. He wasn’t going to let you go after such an insult.”
Drained, Libby slumped forward and thought about what Colin was saying. Now that anger wasn’t guiding her, she saw his point so clearly. That did nothing to make her feel better, in fact made her feel worse…defeated even. Still, she had to make things right between them.
“I’m sorry, Colin,” Libby said with a sigh. “I didn’t think. I know you’re only doing what you think is best. Thank you for being there for me when I needed you most.”
Colin walked over to the bed, sat down beside her, and pulled her into his embrace. He did nothing but hold her while time stood still. Then taking her head with his hands, he kissed her tenderly.
“Promise me, Libby, you’ll take care?” he whispered, pulling away. “I know it’s restrictive here, but I don’t want to see them pull your lifeless body from the river because you’ve been foolish.”
At Libby’s questioning look, he sighed and nodded. “It happens.”
“I promise.” She gave him a tentative smile. “I won’t do anything so stupid again.”